Deviance
by ryttu3k
Summary: The world is at peace. The world is perfect. There is no conflict, no totalitarian government, no abduction, no drugging, no psychic manipulation. There are no drafts, no forced assassins, no capture, no interrogation, no experimentation. There are no Dragons ruling with an iron fist. There is no deviance in a perfect society. And Fairies? They don't exist... right?
1. Naive

**Chapter 1 - Naive**

Rosa woke up.

She woke up already in motion, one foot slicing through the air to strike at a pad with pinpoint accuracy, muscle memory and momentum already bringing her into a recovery position, her arms sliding up to guard her face. And then she stopped, for she did not know how she had come to be there, what she was doing, where she was.

Who she was.

She was aware, at the edge of her memory, of two things - her name was Rosa and she enjoyed fighting - or, no, her name was Rosa and she fought. Fighting, she knew, in some deep instinct, was her reason for being, her reason for existence, who she was. She had been born to do this and would, indeed, do just that.

A frown crossed her face, and she pivoted, striking at the pad again.

So what was this place, then? It was obviously some sort of training centre - around her, she could see others, kicking or punching or striking at pads and bags and, sometimes, each other. They moved in harmony, simultaneously, like a dance that had been rehearsed again and again until the movements were driven into their heads, and not one paused to take note of their surroundings.

Glancing around at her companions, she frowned again, following their movements. She knew, she was discovering, the precise force she had to apply to kick at the pad with the right angle to do damage but not hurt herself. She knew how fast she had to pivot in order to match their movements, and she did not know how that knowledge came to exist within her head.

Sparing just a moment, she glanced down at herself, unsurprised to see that she was wearing the same as everyone else - a fitted grey t-shirt, already darkened with sweat, and dark blue shorts, sturdy sneakers on her feet. Her hair, she discovered as she raised a hand to it, was clearly long and tied up in a bun, shorter parts clipped back out of her eyes.

So, she was a fighter, dressed in the same training garb as everyone else, doing the same movements as everyone else (albeit with a great deal less synchronising), in an unknown training facility. She knew her first name but could not remember her last, could remember a series of numbers that did not actually mean anything to her, was aware of her body, of lean muscles under her skin and bones that recalled combat.

This did not, unfortunately, give her any more answers than she already had.

And she knew of the world, that was another thing she could recall. Or, at the least, she could recall elements, aspects - she could name everything in the room, could recognise the myriad of individuals as people. She recognised what a punching bag was, what sneakers were, what hair clips were. She had, in her mind, a word that she could apply to herself - _amnesia_. But anything else, anything about herself, any identity that would have given her a clue - that was utterly gone.

No - perhaps not, because one of the truths she could remember (something about the world being a good place, about the world being perfect, about the world being somewhere where she belonged and where people could be safe and happy and content) was jangling in her mind like a discordant note lying just out of tune. A lie, she concluded - a lie that she had been told so often it had become her truth.

Then if that truth - the world being a good place, the world being perfect, the world being somewhere where she belonged and where people could be safe and happy and content - was actually a lie, then the actual truth would be the direct opposite.

There was something wrong with the world, then.

She kicked at the bag, out of time with her companions and not particularly caring.

And there was definitely something wrong with her, she concluded as well. The people around her moved with easy grace and easier conviction, like every movement had been planned out in every detail. If they were calm, soothing blue, their minds unfrazzled and calm, then she was red, a ball of spiking, fearful energy, standing out vividly against the calm, flat individuals around her.

And then she paused again, because that was something that her mind was screaming at her for as well. People did not simply look at others and receive information on mood, they did not arbitrarily assign colours to groups. And yet she had, and those colours were not going away - this was something, she concluded, that had changed very recently, her own truth eroded away.

A whistle blew. She straightened up automatically, scrambling to join the orderly queue that had formed at the door, slipping carefully in the place that had been left for her. Glancing over her shoulder, she found her companion's expression vague, as if he had not yet realised that she had been late to her place in the line, and the calm, flat, vacant blue did not leave as they started to march.

They had been in some hall, she realised as they exited into sunlight - a courtyard surrounded by buildings, flat bitumen baking in the sun. Now, the group was splitting apart, marching in sets of four and six and eight, and she glanced around frantically for a group with a gap in it.

There - she scrambled to join them, to assume the place she was meant to be in. Some instinct, some urgent warning call, told her not to draw too much attention to herself - if the world was not actually a good place, then being out of sync with it was a good thing for herself, it showed a spark of rebellion and questioning, it showed that she was not bad herself.

It just wasn't a particularly good thing for that to be noticed by the ones in charge, who would almost certainly see things... differently.

Entering another building, this one with branching corridors leading left and right, Rosa glanced around as stealthily as she could then turned to her immediate neighbour. "Hey," she hissed at the girl, getting about as much reaction as she would from talking to the wall itself. "Hey, um... what time is it?"

It wasn't exactly the most pressing question she had ever asked, and yet even this received no response. Clearly, her companions were not the talkative kind, and she fell silent, drifting along with them, feeling rather like a plastic bottle atop the waves with no idea of the immensity of the ocean beneath it.

And even that was a strange thought, a strange feeling, as she could not recall having ever been to the sea.

This amnesia business was tricky, she thought with a sigh. Even as she learned more about the world, more questions arose, the most pressing one at this point being the question of where she was and why she was there. Another, not quite as pressing but still of rather vital importance, was the question of why she had not yet brought her amnesia, her lack of synchronising with the others, up with anyone. A place this big - for it did indeed look bit - had to have medical staff, didn't they? Wasn't amnesia something she should have been bringing their attention to?

Unless, of course, the medical staff here were responsible for the way the others acted, the blue definitely more of a grey, flat and dull and empty.

They had arrived at a locker room, she noted distantly, each of the others in her group moving to one of the lockers lining the walls. Copying their movements, moving to the only one not attended, she stared at the lock for a moment, caught in a conundrum.

How could she open it?

The number from earlier, she knew, was not intended for locks and lockers, but it was the closest thing she had to an option. Biting her lip, she carefully dialled in the last four digits - it popped open, and she let out a quiet, "Ha."

There was another uniform inside, one that she knew would fit her perfectly. Around her, her companions were stripping off, their attention focused inwards and not on the others - biting her lip in discomfort, she started undressing, scrambling to put the new clothing on as quickly as possible, strongly disliking the idea of standing around, sans memories, in her underwear.

This was a somewhat sturdier uniform, she noted. Tough pants and a jacket that went over a tank top, sturdy boots. Tugging her t-shirt over her head to pull the tank top on instead, she felt metal against her skin and glanced down to find a pair of dog tags.

Just for a moment, she stilled her movements, picking up both tags and examining them closely. Here was a clue - possibly a name, possibly an answer.

All it had was the number in her head, a number she now realised was meant to be her, and absolutely no other identifying features whatsoever. Rosa closed her eyes and exhaled, then pulled the tank top on and the tags out.

But it had, at least, told her something. Dog tags, she knew, were associated with the military - and if the olive drab she was pulling on was any indication, then she was in the army.

Perhaps that explained why she felt such a need to fight - but somehow, this didn't feel like a complete answer, and she knew that fighting was something that had been innate within her almost from birth. She had always fought, and this - this was something new, she had to conclude, with the tags still shiny and the clothes not yet worn. She had not, she thought, been here for very long.

And that meant that, perhaps, her amnesia was connected to being here, on what she now knew was a military base.

Rosa was lost in thought as she exited out through a door behind the others, belatedly scrambling into her place in the line as her companions - the other cadets, or soldiers, or whatever they were meant to be. Ahead of them was an obstacle course, and she knew, simply knew without being told, that they would be timed, that they would have to equal or defeat their own time on this course, one at a time and with careful scrutiny on them all.

She could not afford to mess up, then, and studied it as best as she could as she joined the line behind the first of the cadets. She knew, now, that she was being watched.

There was something to be said for muscle memory. The course was something she could do easily, and for the parts where she stumbled, another instinct urged her on. The answers were already in her head, and this... was almost as unsettling as it was useful, something that had kept her following a predetermined path for the time since she had woken up and would keep her in line for the remainder of the day. It was almost as if, she decided, something was telling her what to do - what she would have to keep doing in order to remain undetected, something she had to focus on or fail.

But it was hard - something in her did not like that little voice, rejected it utterly. It was not something that needed to affect her, not something that was meant to guide her feet, and even that was something she had no answer for.

Clearly, the others around her could hear it - they moved in lockstep, from exercise to exercise, from exercise to the showers, from the showers to the dining hall, from the dining hall to the dormitories. Left alone in the hall for just a moment, she could feel unfamiliar panic take hold at the many identical doors - and then she exhaled, closing her eyes and listening to the little voice.

Right. Left. Right. Left. Forward. Left. Right, and she was standing before a door, already reaching to open it, finding herself facing a set of bunk beds that she knew she had been sleeping in.

She asked the little voice whether it was the top or bottom, and found herself moving unerringly towards the ladder.

"Fine," she mouthed to herself, undressing hurriedly and cladding herself in the sleepwear that had been provided for her, slipping under the covers.

Now she could sleep, at least - sleep, and wake up again in the morning, hopefully with more answers. Or, morning could come and she would not wake up at all - caught in the strange fugue that the rest were caught in, in lockstep once more, conforming with the others but lost to herself again.

But the voice was telling her to sleep, and her eyelashes fluttered in an attempt to keep them open. Because that was not a voice in her head but a voice coming from a small speaker, close by and whispering into her ear as she fought against exhaustion.

_The world is at peace,_ it said. _The world is perfect. The world does not have conflict. Our society is great. Our society is perfect. There is no dissent in a perfect society. There is no deviance in a perfect society. The world is at peace. The world is perfect._

Lies, Rosa decided firmly, defiantly, and turned her back on it.


	2. Careful

**Chapter 2 - Careful**

Hugh wiped his mouth, sat back, and groaned, waiting for the nausea to subside.

This was definitely not his ideal line of work. Six months in, he groused, should have been long enough to get used to the smell of the toxins, the sickness and nausea, his perpetually unsettled stomach. He should not have still been having to run to the little adjoining bathroom in his veritable prison cell every time he caught too much of a whiff of the chemicals.

Scrubbing at his face with one hand, he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling over to the sink and turning the tap. With a flick of his fingers, he redirected the stream into the waiting glass, rinsing the taste of stomach acid out of his mouth, wincing as he spat it out again, then pressed a hand against his forehead and groaned.

This was not pleasant work. When he had been younger, it had just been water that answered his call, and even the poison that infected his body when he had started growing had existed in uneasy balance. The water diluted the poison, kept it under control, kept it from rotting him away from the inside. Now, forced to use those abilities hour after hour, day after day, and he would find himself sick more often than not.

All to refine poisons, to manufacture drugs, to produce the weapons that were being used amongst people he saw every day. Every glazed eye was an accusation, every stumbling movement was blame, every inability to resist - it was his fault. With a groan, he refilled the glass, then shuffled back into the room and dropped himself back down to his seat.

There were still more drugs he had to make.

"Stand by for calibration," came a sudden tinny voice from the speaker mounted in the wall, and he started, glancing up at it in surprise. Was it three o'clock already? It had to be - calibration came at the same time every day, in the earliest hours of the morning when most of the cadets and soldiers were asleep. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh, waiting for it to come.

And - there. Like an ocean's wave washing over him, his orders slid into place, an unconscious primer on what the next day - well, the rest of the day, at any rate - would bring. At least they couldn't use his own drugs on him, he grumbled as he returned to his required task - the unconscious psychic orders combined with the stupefying effect of the chemicals that were slipped into each cadet and soldier's food served to turn them into zombies. Controlled by the unconscious orders but able to keep his own mind, he was, at least, able to be aware of the world around him.

Not that that was a great deal better.

He needed air. Grateful at least that he was free to wander the wing between eleven at night and five in the morning while the cadets and soldiers slept, he pushed himself to his feet and left, allowing his feet to take him on their own chosen path.

There was, up ahead, an open door with a light on.

This in and of itself wasn't unusual - it was an office, and the officers did tend to work irregular hours. But as he moved by it, glancing in uncertainly, he found himself slowing to a stop - inside was someone in cadet sleepwear, someone moving furtively and uncertainly, someone who was clearly not driven by programming and drugs, someone who should not have been there.

A girl, he concluded, glancing at the small frame and the long hair, pulled back (much to his surprise) in twin tails. The cadets with long hair were required to keep it up in a bun, any stray bits and pieces clipped back - twin tails were something that was both out of the ordinary and suddenly, shockingly, familiar.

He took a step inside, and she froze, every muscle tensing visibly. "I know you're there," she said softly, "I just want answers. I -"

"Rosa," he said instead, his voice soft and shaken, and she started, turning to face him for the first time. And it was her, it had to be - the caution and hardness in her eyes, that was new, but the rest of her... it was Rosa, in every detail.

"You... know me?" she asked uncertainly, and something in his chest pinged hard.

Nodding wordlessly, he took a few steps closer then stopped as she skittered back, falling into a combat position. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, taking note of her obvious fear, "It's me, Hugh - don't you remember me?"

The feeling of being scrutinised was an uncomfortable one, but he endured it, carefully watching the tiny frown on her lips. "You look familiar," she finally admitted grudgingly, "But I don't... remember where from. I'm sorry, Hugh, I think I'm lacking some memories here."

He exhaled slowly. "Can I come closer?" he whispered, "Or at least away from the door?"

She nodded, taking a few steps towards him and gesturing to move to the side, away from door. "What's going on?" she asked, and there was a familiar plaintive note in her voice.

Settling down cross-legged on the floor, he patted the space next to him, and after a moment of hesitation, she joined him. "How much do you remember?"

She let out a sigh. "Practically nothing," she muttered. "I - woke up yesterday, and I couldn't sleep, so I went looking for information - I worked out that we're in some sort of military base, I guess, but all I could remember was that my name is Rosa, a number, and - that I like to fight."

She said this last bit uncertainly.

Hugh exhaled. "You don't just like to fight. You're a Fighter - that's your type. That's why you're here. You turned eighteen a month ago and were drafted - all Fighters are when they become adults. They - control you, they use drugs and psychic manipulation, it's supposed to keep you under control, and..." He glanced at her uncertainly. "I guess... I guess it wore off."

"Oh." For a moment, she was silent. "What about you?"

He winced, somewhat reluctant to explain the hand he had in this. "I have two types," he eventually muttered, "Water, which is pretty common. And - the other one is Poison. They grabbed me six months ago and they've been making me make the drugs they use on you guys. I can't be drugged myself, but they still keep doing the psychic crap." Frustrated, he smacked the floor with both hands. "It's so fucked up!"

Absently, she moved one hand to pat his, a gesture so achingly familiar that the anger drained away instantly. "Rosa?" he asked uncertainly, glancing at her through his hair.

"Aspertia," she finally said, frowning at the floor. "That's where we're from, aren't we? And Hugh, you were - you're my best friend, aren't you?"

He nodded, his mouth dry, and she closed her eyes.

"I still don't remember much," she admitted, "Just bits and pieces... flashes. It's more than yesterday - I guess they'll come back in time." Frowning suddenly, she turned to Hugh. "Did you kiss me? Because I remember it and I don't think I liked it."

She remembered that, of all things? Letting out a startled laugh, he buried a hand in his hair. "Yeah, but - we both agreed!" he said hastily. "We were... fifteen, I think? And neither of us had kissed anyone, so we decided to try it out on each other. And it was really weird and we both decided not to do it again, it was like..."

"Like kissing a brother," she laughed, flashing him a smile.

He grinned back at the Rosa he had grown up with, squeezing her hand. "Yeah. We couldn't really look at each other for a few days after that, then decided it was kind of dumb and we were still friends."

"Yeah..." She slumped back against the wall and sighed deeply. "I really don't know what's going on," she admitted quietly. "Some of the memories are coming back - I think, the more time I spend around you, the more I remember stuff? Mostly to do with you, though - maybe I should go back to Aspertia and see what it triggers."

Hugh winced. "We're not allowed," he said quietly. "We're not allowed to leave the base. And we're basically in the desert, it'd take a while to get back down to Castelia and get the ferry..."

"Down to Castelia, get the ferry," she muttered. "So - what, we're prisoners here? Prisoners that are supposed to be controlled by weird psychic powers and drugs? What do they want us for?"

"That's about it, yeah. And - supposedly - the army is to 'keep the peace', which I think means forcing anyone who doesn't comply to do what the government says." And wasn't that a depressing thought? It was bad enough that he had been forced into this life, but he had accepted it, had come to terms with the fact that he would be spending his days creating drugs. But with Rosa here, a friend that he knew did not deserve any of this, a friend who was awake and lost and well aware of what was happening to her, it had taken on an entirely new dimension.

It was something that could not continue this way. Not without someone else here, not while a friend was suffering.

"It's not right," she whispered, and he nodded. "It has to stop. Hugh, we have to stop this."

"Yeah." Eyes closed, he practically exhaled the word. "Yeah, we do. Where do we start, though?"

"I think... maybe we should pretend to keep doing what we're meant to do for now, and try to find out more information while we do that," she said dubiously, "Although that could be hard - I can hear the manipulation, but I don't follow it automatically. I might get noticed if I do the wrong thing. I might have already been - I kept going out of sync yesterday. I don't know if they saw, but just - I don't know." She let out a groan, letting her head thump back against the wall. "Maybe we could go in all guns blazing, get out of here, and work out what to do from the outside."

"Or maybe," said a new voice, and Hugh whipped around violently, tensing hard at the sight of the men with the guns, a man in a military uniform striding into the room, "You could explain just how it is that you've managed to defy us." And he jerked his head to the soldiers, Hugh letting out a shout as hard hands wrapped around his arms. "Take 'em away!"


	3. Naughty

**Chapter 3 - Naughty**

Rosa woke up.

This was not, however, like waking up in the sparring hall the day before. This was not even like drifting asleep and starting awake again for a good handful of hours before finally, cautiously, venturing from her bed to explore. This was the awakening of someone who had been unconscious, truly unconscious and not the lack of awareness that the drugs had rendered, and she let out a thin groan as she remembered.

They had appeared with guns, and one of them had grabbed Hugh. She had let out a cry of anger and had kicked the soldier, hard - a solid sweep of the foot meant to knock someone to their knees.

She had not, unfortunately, noticed the one coming up behind her until he wrapped his arm around her throat, dragging her back as she gasped for breath, and she had only just had time to register the rifle butt moving towards her at a rather rapid pace before it slammed into her temple.

With a faint whimper, she tried to raise a hand to the injury, where she could feel blood sticky against her skin. Instead, she found her hands restrained - heavy straps and cuffs kept her wrists close to the wall she was slumped against, and one shoulder twinged painfully as if the realisation of the awkward position had reminded her body that it was meant to be hurting.

"Hugh?" she called out shakily instead, "Are you there? Can you hear me?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

And then she heard a shuffling sound from the room that she assumed was directly beside hers, if the position of the door was any indication - a thump, a groan, and then, finally, an uncertain and soft call of, "Rosa?"

Letting her eyes fall shut for a moment in sheer relief, Rosa counted to three and then opened them again. "Are you hurt?" she said urgently, "And are you restrained at all?"

"Yeah," came the pained voice. "My arms are pulled back, there's these cuff things on them. And I hurt all over, they beat the shit out of me after they knocked you out - are _you_ okay?" he added urgently, "They hit you really hard!"

She shook her head, realised simultaneously that both Hugh could not actually see the gesture and that the gesture had caused a fair amount of almost agonising pain, and returned with a more verbal, "I don't know. My head really hurts, I think it was bleeding before - feel sick, I have some double vision - it's - hard to concentrate. I think I have a concussion." With another groan, she rested her head (gently) against the wall. "I have no idea how I know those symptoms. That's all I need, a head injury _and_ amnesia."

From the other side of the wall, Hugh let out a shaky laugh. "Great. Once I get out of these stupid cuffs, I'll kick their asses for you."

"Yeah, good luck with that," she muttered, sighing. "Thanks. What about your injuries?"

He let out an uncertain sound. "I don't think it's anything really serious," he said slowly, "Just... a lot of bruises. Pain. Lovely shit like that."

She winced a little at that last bit, glancing around at what she assumed was her new temporary resident. "Yeah, come to think of it, how are we meant to...?" Trailing off (she still wasn't sure just how good friends they were), Rosa shook her head and cringed again at the jolt of pain that the movement produced. "Never mind."

There was a steel toilet in one corner - the restraints would never reach that far, but she assumed (oh god, she hoped) that they would be released for that. Also out of reach, in the opposite corner, was a single thin mattress, and bolts that looked like they could be threaded with the straps currently holding her in place nearby. The door was heavy, steel, and had what looked like a panel that could slide to one side to let someone peer inside, and the rest of the room was made up of plain, unadorned white walls, a ceiling that was featureless aside from a single fluorescent light, and a flat expanse of concrete for a floor.

From, this, she could make a few deductions. Since she could not, in her current position, reach either the toilet or the bed, she would have to be let free for those. The bolts near the bed indicated that she would probably be restrained while she slept; the lack of them near the toilet meant she'd probably at least have her hands free for that. (The lack of a sink was another concern - what exactly were they expecting to do for washing up?) They would probably come in, lock the door, and then escort her to where she needed to go; for the night time, they would have to fasten new restraints.

Which meant that they would have to lean over her to do so. Rosa frowned, trying to work out just how hard she would have to kick to get free.

And then a blow to the door made her jump violently, a droning voice calling out their names. But she could barely hear the words, muffled as they were - Hugh, evidently, could hear sufficiently better, if his yell of frustration and the subsequent torrent of swear words were any indication. "What are you saying?" she shouted, "Get over here and talk to my face!"

There was another blow to the door - a kick, probably - and the voice called out something that sounded suspiciously like, "Fucking behave!" Another door, further off, slammed shut, and silence fell again.

Rosa, practically holding her breath, listened hard for the sign of anyone else, unwilling to call out to Hugh in case they were still listening. How quietly could they breathe to not be detected? She had no way of seeing out, no way of telling what was beyond the door, and she let her eyes slowly fall shut.

And then, peering through her eyelashes, she stopped. Her head had turned almost involuntarily to face the wall where Hugh was being held, and she could discern a shape there - flickering, a deep blue shot through with purple, a subtle flicker of gold at its core.

She frowned.

Now, she could remember the training hall, the impression of flat, calm blue-grey with her anxiety and fear spiking red around it. Was this the same, then? She could stare at the wall and make out the shape where she assumed Hugh would be lying, see a shimmer of colour, a flicker of emotion. The gold, she now knew, was trustworthiness.

There was no one else around. She drew in a breath. "Hugh?" she called softly, "What was he saying?"

"Rosa?" he called back, audible frustration in his voice corresponding with a faint spike of orange. "It's - what we're being charged with. Sedition and conspiracy to commit treason." He sounded disgusted. "Also, manufacturing of weapons against the state for me - never mind the fact that I was making them _for_ them - and electronic espionage for you. I guess that'd be whatever you were looking for on the computer."

"I was looking for my own records!" she hissed in frustration. "Shit, what do we do now? I'm guessing we're going to be in here for a while."

"Yeah," he said softly, "Until they come to interrogate us."

And that, she decided with a sinking sense of unease, was not a pleasant thought at all.

* * *

It was not.

The next few... she could only assume they were weeks, if the amount of times she had been chained next to the mattress were any indication (always with a second soldier standing over her, a gun pointing at her head, telling her it was a very bad idea to try to fight back), were not pleasant. She had been dragged out for interrogations, always asking the same ridiculous questions - what involvement she had with dissenters and seditionists, what state secrets she had stolen, what plans she had been making to bring down the government. At first, she had held her tongue - later, hurting and hungry and weak, she had admitted to her amnesia, her fear, her uncertainty of what was going on, her desire to do nothing more but leave and to find out about her past.

They had not bought it, it seemed, and eventually, the interrogations began to dwindle.

At least those sessions were a change of scenery. The rest of the time was spent staring at the wall, scoffing down the meagre meals she was given (two slices of bread in the mornings, one in the evenings, along with some utterly unappealing slice of ancient-looking lunch meat), trying to ignore prying eyes staring into her cell every so often, enduring a rough sponge bath by (thankfully) one of the female guards every few days. The only bright spot was that Hugh was close by, and he was helping fill in some of the gaps of her missing memories - she had a fairly decent working idea of her history, now.

Still, memories were poor consolation for what she was recognising as a distinct case of malnutrition. Even if she wasn't chained to the wall for most of the day, she doubted she would be able to walk far - the tiny meals they did manage to give her were not nearly enough, and she could only watch blankly as her legs grew thinner and her strength began to fade.

It was somewhere between three and four weeks (Rosa had long since lost count) when the wall exploded.

This was somewhat of an exaggeration - what had happened, as far as she could tell, was the door to the corridor their cells were in being blown off its hinges. Lifting her head wearily, she could only stare at her door in some disbelief, hearing the door to Hugh's cell being forced open, his weakened voice instructing, "Rosa... my friend... next cell... not going without her..."

"Got it," came a new voice, this one a gentle boy's voice. And then the door started buckling and twisting, the metal crumpling before swinging inwards. Standing before it was another boy, hair in wild disarray and covered in dust and with an exhausted-looking Hugh draped over his shoulders, giving her a grin. "Bianca, go give her a hand!"

A new girl hurried in, giving her a reassuring smile as she tugged at Rosa's bonds. "Hi, Rosa!" she said cheerily, "I'm Bianca, and that's Nate back there. We're here to rescue you!"

"Oh," she said vaguely, "Thanks."

Bianca gave her a sympathetic smile, tugging Rosa's newly freed arm over her shoulder. "We might have to fight our way out," she warned her in advance, "I've got Grass, and Nate has Ground - hopefully we can cover it, right?"

"Right," she said muzzily, leaning on Bianca as if she was the only thing still holding her up (which, as a matter of fact, she probably was). "What now?"

"Now we escape," Nate called, and with the sluggish reflexes of someone slowly starving, she recognised him too - another from Aspertia, a good friend of Hugh's, someone she had never really had much to do with but trustworthy nonetheless. "Hopefully those guards are still all tied up, huh?"

Bianca let out a little laugh, a thin vine materialising out of nowhere to wrap around Rosa's wrist, gently securing it to Bianca's arm. "Just to keep you from falling," she told her reassuringly, "Once we get to the car, you can rest, okay?"

"Right," Rosa whispered, and closed her eyes.

She remembered the ground shaking and feeling nauseous to her very bones, she remembered splashing through ankle-deep water. She remembered the attacks from the other side - fire and electricity and rocks, and, once, staring up at a frozen-over, heavy metal door, reaching out to the metal and yanking hard through shattered shards of ice.

She remembered an SUV and being gently laid down in the back seat, Bianca's hand on her shoulder as she encouraged a dark-haired boy to drive as fast as they could, and then she remembered nothing else.


	4. Mild

**Chapter 4 - Mild**

"Hey, doc?"

Glancing up from the apparently never-ending piles of paperwork, Professor Augustine Sycamore glanced up curiously, smiling at the face peering around the edge of the door frame. "Hi, Tierno. Is something the matter?"

The boy grinned. "Nah, it's cool. But Bee sent me to tell you - that girl's woken up now."

"Ah!" Setting down his pen with an audible click and a sigh of relief, Augustine got to his feet, glad for both the girl's recovery and the excuse to not do any more paperwork. "Thank you for letting me know. I'll go fill her in - could you get a bowl of broth and some water for her?"

"I'm on it!" With a quick twirl - Tierno was almost always in motion - he hurried off, and Augustine followed him out the door, hurrying to one of the bedrooms where the girl had been left to sleep off the ordeal of imprisonment. She had been sleeping, more or less, since her arrival the evening before - now reaching noon the next day, she would no doubt have a great deal of questions.

Knocking gently on the door frame, he received a groggy, "Come in," and pushed the door open.

The girl on the bed did not look eighteen. Perhaps it was her recent malnourishment, but she looked thin and fragile, with the wasted look of someone who had once been at the peak of fitness and who now lacked even the strength to get out of bed. With her hair loose and one of Hilda's shirts on, she looked like a much younger girl, and the injustice of her arrest, imprisonment, and mistreatment seemed all the more sharp.

"Good afternoon!" he said with a bright smile, "I'm Professor Sycamore. How are you feeling?"

She stared at him with unfocused dark blue eyes, then shook her head dazedly. "I think I've been reading too many of Hugh's little sister's romance books," she muttered, "There's a pretty doctor with a Kalosian accent standing over my bed, I'm pretty sure I read that one once."

Pretty?

Augustine blinked once, then chuckled ruefully. God help him from hormonal teenagers, he thought with a sigh, then pulled up a chair and dropped himself down on it. "I'm afraid not," he said with an apologetic smile, "Sorry about that! I'll see if we can order any shirtless lumberjacks or dashing princes." The smile turned into a mischievous grin, and he was gratified to see a reluctant smile on the girl's face as well.

"Just so long as it's nothing to do with sexy soldiers," she said ruefully, "I've had enough of the military for now. And I feel kind of shit, I have a headache, I feel really shaky and weak, and my fingers and toes are tingling."

Suddenly more solemn, he nodded once. "Well, I'm not a medical doctor," he admitted, "I'm a biochemist. But I can tell you that you're malnutritioned - we'll have to get you back up to regular meals slowly, and in the mean time, there's some vitamins and supplements for you to take." Reaching for the drawer of the night stand, he drew out a couple of pill bottles. "You're a Fighter, right?"

She nodded slowly. "That's what Hugh says, yeah. I think I'm starting to remember some of the others, too. Uh, we think I have a secondary, but I don't know what it is - Hugh thinks that's why the drugs and manipulation didn't work on me."

"It's possible," he nodded. "He woke up this morning and gave us his side of the story - we have a few ideas on what it might be." A knock at the door made him twist around, a smile popping on to his face. "Ah, and here's a possibility now! Come in, Tierno."

Carefully balancing a mug of broth, a spoon, a bottle of water, and a glass on a tray, Tierno set them down on the night stand and gave Rosa a smile. "Hey, welcome to Club Freakshow! The Professor filled you in yet?"

Staring at the broth hungrily, Rosa tore her gaze from it up at Tierno. "He's getting there," she said pointedly, "Club Freakshow?"

"I'll explain in a moment," Augustine said hurriedly, waving his hands at Tierno. "Let me handle it, okay?"

Chuckling, he nodded. "Sure thing. Good luck, doc."

And he took his leave, Augustine shaking his head. "Club Freakshow," he sighed, reaching for the spoon on the tray and offering it to Rosa. "Here - take this."

She did, staring down at it as he scrubbed his fingers against his labcoat to erase the sting from handling the metal, turning it over in her fingers. "What am I...?" she started slowly, and frowned. "Oh. That's... weird."

And she curled her fingers around it, and bent the spoon in half as easily as if it were made of putty.

"That confirms it, then!" he said with a smile, hiding his surprise at the show of ability. "Your secondary type is Steel. As far as we can tell, it means you're actually immune to poisons, but also to drugs and, unfortunately, medicines - although the vitamins should work. Hopefully. And it means that the psychic manipulation would have been less effective on you - it's possible that your Steel traits kicked in after you were drafted, and that allowed you to get free of their manipulation."

Dark eyes focused on the spoon, she sighed, trying to straighten it out again. "Yeah. I could feel it - like, what it was made of. And - I opened a door when we were escaping. I don't think I even really thought about it." She sighed, setting the mangled spoon back on the tray. "What type are you?"

"Me?" he blinked, smiling automatically despite the vague pang he always felt at the question. "I'm just - well, Normal isn't the nicest term, since it implies that you're _not_ normal, and that's not true at all... I don't really have anything. I'm not sure if you remember, it's about seventy percent of the population that don't have anything, really..."

She nodded once, looking thoughtful. "I remember a little," she confirmed, then sighed. "What about everyone else here? I could..." Rosa trailed off, looking uncertain. "I mean, there's other people here, aren't there? Why did Tierno call it Club Freakshow?"

"And there's the million-dollar question!" Sitting back, he folded one leg over the other, resting his foot on one knee. "Rosa, this place is a safe house for..." He hesitated briefly, then forged on - she was a part of this now, whether she wanted to be or not. "For a few kinds of people. There are people like you and Hugh here - people who have been charged with crimes against the state, which really just means people who have realised what's going on and have decided that it's not something they can live comfortably with."

"The rebellion," Rosa said quietly, "They kept asking me about the rebellion."

He nodded grimly, a vague sense of unease about him. The rebellion - it made it sound so serious.

But it was, wasn't it?

"The other part," he continued quietly, "Comes about from typing. Now, a majority of the population are Normal, right?" Counting off on his fingers, he continued, "And then there are Grass, Water, Fire, Electric, Rock and Ground, Ice, Flying, and your other type, Steel. Then come three others, and you have one foot outside the realm of what's considered to be easy and free - Fighters are drafted, Poison, like poor Hugh, are used to make drugs and are used as assassins -" Her eyes widened - "And Bug types can control insects and are forced to work as spies."

"Right," she echoed.

"And then," he continued grimly, "There's the so-called Deviant types."

"There is no deviance in a perfect society," she almost whispered, then shook her head fiercely. "They were playing that as part of the propaganda tapes when we were meant to sleep. What are they?"

She must have already had an inkling of the psychics, at least. "First are the Psychics," he started, "Who can manipulate the mind. A great deal of them are forced to work for the government - they're the source of the psychic manipulation they use on you. Calem is like that - he's one of the older kids here. Next are the Ghost types - they can see and communicate with spirits of the dead. Of the ones your age, it's a pair of twins who have that - Hilda also has Fire abilities, and Hilbert can also use Water. And finally, there's Dark - they're called that because they can't be controlled by psychic abilities at all, and some of them have unusual abilities themselves. Tierno has that as well as Water, and so do Serena and Cheren - he was the boy driving the car last night."

Her hands curled in the sheets. "And they're called deviants?" she confirmed, her expression twisting. "That's - really shitty. Just because they have different abilities..." Voice trailing off, she shook her head. "I mean, psychic powers and talking to ghosts is kind of freaky-sounding, but - I mean, so is being able to set things on fire by looking at them, right?"

"Right," he echoed with a sad smile. "But officially, the government doesn't want people to know they exist - they might believe that they pose a threat to them. That's where we come in!"

This was the right thing to do, wasn't it? No matter how uncertain he was about acting, it was still the right thing to do.

"What we do," he continued, "Is provide a safe haven for those who are on the run because of their abilities, and, on occasion, we conduct raids to rescue those who have been captured - like you and Hugh. I've mentioned the older kids, and I think you've met Nate and Bianca - they, and another boy who controls electricity named Trevor, are the day-by-day leaders. Officially, the group is lead by myself and a friend of mine from university, Professor Juniper - you'll meet her later. Unofficially, they're the ones you can go to for anything. There's younger kids, a few family members and friends, people like that - we're the first place of contact while they're trying to work out what to do next."

"And then," Rosa continued steadily, "You're going to take down the government, right?"

Suddenly caught, his mouth opened and then closed again. "Our first priority is keeping everyone safe," he repeated evenly, straightening up hastily. "Well! You must be exhausted, and I think that's quite enough information overload for now! Make sure you drink your broth slowly, alright? Or you'll upset your stomach."

Her eyes widened a little in protest before she slumped down against the pillows again, sighing. "You're the doctor," she grumbled. "Well - biochemist, whatever. When can I see Hugh?"

Offering her a smile, trying to ignore the involuntary accusation she had delivered, he shrugged fluidly. "There's nothing really stopping you! Perhaps once you've finished your broth, you can call one of the others and they'll help you to his room, or vice versa. I can leave your door open if you want to call out."

She nodded again, her gaze flickering to it. "Please do," she sighed, "I've had enough of closed doors to last me a lifetime."

Augustine nodded once, pushing the door open a little wider. "Of course. And Rosa, I hope you feel better soon," he told her with the most welcoming smile he could muster, and hurried out.


	5. Calm

**Chapter 5 - Calm**

The day that Hugh got to go outside was the happiest since he had first been drafted to the military.

Carefully leaning on Nate's shoulder for support, moving his aching limbs slowly, tentatively, he set foot on the grass and let out a little sigh. The back of the safe house met the forest, it seemed, and they sat at the very edge of the trees, a little creek winding through them.

Immediately, he slid his feet into the water and groaned in pure relief, feeling a trickle of strength stealing back through his limbs.

"That's better, huh?" Nate said with a smile, "It's not really the same if you just have like... bottled water, right?"

"Yeah," he murmured, splashing gently. "Bottled water is okay, but it feels sort of dead. This water is alive."

"Like bricks and stuff," Nate nodded, shrugging a little. "They don't feel the same as the actual ground. Well, I'm glad it helps." Settling back against the tree, he offered him a smile. "So, Hilbert's pretty pleased about getting his own room. And Bee - uh, that's Bianca - seems to like Rosa, so it all works out."

Hugh let out an indistinct sound. "Hilbert's not annoyed about losing his roomie?" he asked drowsily. "I guess you'd know better than me."

Nate let out a murmured affirmative. "Did you know he and Hilda were the first two here? That guy's used to being on his own. And anyway, I've only been here for like a month."

Smiling even as he let his eyes closed, Hugh nudged Nate's foot with his own. "Thanks for that. For looking for me," he said quietly, focusing on the cool silk of the water. "I think me and Rosa would have died in there if you hadn't got us out."

"Don't mention it." Nate levelled a punch at Hugh's shoulder, light and companionable, then let out a short sound of alertness. "Hey. Rosa's up."

Hugh's eyes flew open, searching out Rosa's form - she was also leaning heavily on someone, this one being Bianca. Bianca waved enthusiastically, guiding Rosa to the shady spot and helping her down - almost immediately, she stretched out on the grass with a little sigh. "Hey," she murmured to Hugh, "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Hugh said cheerfully. "How about you?"

"I've been better," she laughed. "Ooh. Fresh air."

Giggling, Bianca set down the bag she had been carrying. "Here - I brought out some drinks. I thought that, since you're out and about, you can meet everyone!" she exclaimed, beaming at them all. "Stay here, okay? I'll get everyone!"

Socialisation? Hugh's trepidation must have shown on his face, because Nate let out a short laugh, nudging him. "They're all fine," he murmured reassuringly, "You'll be fine."

Hugh smiled back uneasily, staring at his hands, twisting his fingers together. Poison was not a common type, and he knew it - he knew the reception it had got from others, and he was not sure what reaction he would get now, he really didn't...

Still, it was too late now. Bianca was returning, and Rosa reached for Hugh's arm to pull herself into a sitting position, watching them curiously. Only three others had joined her, and she shrugged a little ruefully.

"Some of the others are in a lesson," she called as the little group returned. "A lot of us had our schooling messed up, so the professors do lessons, and they can download classes for math and English and history and stuff as well as their own things. They're doing _calculus_," she added with a laugh that spoke volumes of her gratitude that she didn't have to be doing it.

Accompanying Bianca were three others - the dark-haired boy with glasses that had driven the car during their escape, and a boy and girl, the boy's messy brown hair crammed under a cap and the girl's pulled into a high ponytail, similar enough in appearance that he assumed that they were the twins, Hilda and Hilbert.

The twins who could speak to ghosts, he remembered, and fought the urge to shiver.

"Alright, alright!" Bianca chirped as she dropped herself to the ground. "Okay, so everyone, these are Rosa and Hugh. Rosa's a Fighter and - was it Steel?" she asked, receiving a nod in confirmation. "Right, Fighting and Steel, she's the one that was in the army but broke out of the drugs. Hugh is Water and, uh, Poison, and he was being forced to _make_ the drugs. Totally against his will!" she added hastily with a flap of her hands.

Hugh gave her a small, grateful smile, glancing down at his knotted fingers.

"Okay, so!" she forged on, "These are some of my best friends ever - Hilda, Hilbert, and Cheren! Um... do you guys want to tell your story?" she asked carefully, giving the twins a sidelong glance.

"Sure, Bee," Hilda said with a smile, flopping next to Bianca and reaching for a drink. "Okay, me and Hilbert knew what we were since we were really little, since our Mom can do the same thing. She told us to hide it, though, and just pretend we were Normal - and later we got Fire and Water, and so we just pretended to be those. Then, when we were twelve, the fuckers found out." She scowled, and a blade of grass began to smoulder.

With a gentle sigh, Hilbert let a little water slide from his fingers to extinguish the potential grass fire with practised ease, and Hugh found himself sympathising with the other Water type. At least he didn't have anyone around him setting things on fire on a regular basis. "Anyway," he continued, picking up the thread of the story, "We were drugged and taken to this lab - it's gone now. We got given to this brand new scientist they had just brought in and they told her to see what made us tick. It was Professor Juniper."

Hugh gave him a startled look. He had met Professor Juniper, a calm but cheerful woman who had filled him in on a lot of the details of their new home, and the thought of her working for Them seemed rather incongruous.

On the other hand, he had worked for them as well, hadn't he?

"Well," Hilda continued without even a pause, "She hadn't been told she was meant to be... I don't know, dissecting a couple of twelve-year-olds, so she smuggled us out before they could fuck us up too badly and started this place. That was five years ago, and Cherry and Bee got here just after that."

"_Cheren_," muttered the boy with the resigned air of someone all too used to the nickname, shaking his head. "When Hilda and Hilbert had disappeared," he pressed on, "I started worrying - well, of course I was worried greatly for my friends, but I was also worried because I had started showing, ah, undesirable traits as well. Dark ones." He winced a little. "When Professor Juniper helped them escape, they were able to get in contact with Bianca, and we worked out what had happened. I left to join them, and Bianca came with me to stay with us and to help with the rebellion."

Bianca grinned sunnily at that. "People see me and think I'm just an airhead," she chirped, "But Professor Juniper took me on as her apprentice. Give me a couple of years, and I'll probably be running this place!" Her smile did not fade, and, just quietly, Hugh made a promise to himself not to annoy the blonde girl if he could help it.

Hilda, Hilbert, and Cheren proved to be decent company, though. Hilda's fiery temper seemed to be thematically appropriate, and briefly, he found himself wondering how much types influenced personality - or if the other way around was true (Nate, it seemed, was definitely grounded. Rosa was passionate and stood up for others, and yet her resilience spoke greatly of her new Steel typing). Did that mean that he had a toxic personality? Or was there really not that much correlation? Bianca, carefully perched on a blanket that had been in the bottom of the bag to prevent getting her white skirt dirty (although her bare feet were, indeed, brushing the grass), did not particularly seem to be the outdoorsy type.

It wasn't too long before the others joined them. Serena, dark-haired and clad in cool white, immediately reached for a drink as she settled next to her room mate Hilda, giving them a cautious smile. Calem had given them a curious stare as he had settled down as well, eventually managing a smile of his own. Tierno, at least, seemed a little more openly friendly - he had greeted them cheerily, always in some sort of motion, tapping his feet even as he sat down. Beside him, small, fine-boned Trevor clung to his phone (and wasn't that dangerous? If this was a safe house, wouldn't they have to be careful to prevent them being tracked?) and watched them uncertainly, and Hugh immediately pegged him as a flighty Flying type.

(It was a bit of a surprise, then, to learn that he was actually an Electric user.)

All four had been friends in the time they had dubbed as Before, it seemed, with Trevor realising his abilities first and Tierno, with his other type of Water (was it just him, or were there quite a few of them around?), learning about them second.

Neither of them had had any inkling just what else they could do until Calem had, rather unexpectedly, developed the ability to read minds. With this new skill, he had found that Serena and Tierno were blank spots for him, and they had read widely, learning precisely what a 'Dark' type was.

They had gone on the run together, arriving at the safe house two years earlier, immediately becoming involved with the rebellion.

And there had also been Serena's other ability, one that they had capitulated on more than once - she had the gift of prophesy, the skill of precognition, the ability to see what disasters laid ahead. It was not a happy gift - Serena was, it seemed, perpetually jumpy.

Hugh could not bring himself to blame her.

And that made eleven of them, the older members of the safe house, aside from a few parents who were accompanying their offspring. As the afternoon slipped on, the more experienced members pointed them out - another Fighter, also possessing Fire, whose adolescent Fighting daughter had unexpectedly developed Dark traits instead; a delicately-boned Psychic Flyer, perched in a tree and picking berries from a high-up branch with nothing more than her mind; a boy with prosthetic legs that, Hugh noted suddenly, were not actually connected to anything and was instead transporting himself with telekinesis; a small boy focusing flames and crackling sparks through a stick he had plucked up.

It was remarkable and it was a little frightening and it was simply liberating to see all these new people, all these new types, all these new ideas. Aspertia had not been a big place, and the types he had seen there had been as much as one could expect in any medium-sized Unovan town - now, Hugh wondered how many of these hidden people had, in fact, been there all along.

Quietly waiting until the government would arrest them for being 'deviants', of course, and he pulled a face at the thought.

Rosa glanced at him curiously, but had no chance to ask him what he had reacted to - Professor Juniper had poked her head out the door, searching them out. "Hilbert!" she called, "We have a new boy here - he's about your age so I'm rooming him with you. Can you come and help him settle in?"

"Well," Hilbert said with a sigh, "So much for getting my own room. I'll be back later," he told them, and hurried off to meet the newcomer, Hilda chuckling before following close behind.

Hugh closed his eyes again.

This was definitely a new world.


	6. Quirky

**Chapter 6 - Quirky**

N was literally the most awkward person Hilda had ever met in her entire life.

For one thing, there was the name - the single letter N, and if it meant something else, he wasn't saying. This was not unusual, in and of itself - many at the safe house used pseudonyms and nicknames, and she honestly wasn't sure of the last names of anyone other than... well, the professors, Bianca, and Cheren (and Hilbert, but that generally went without saying). Still, just the single letter, on its own, immediately set him apart.

He had green hair, also not that outside of the ordinary for those more affiliated with grass and plants - except for the part where he had apparently admitted to not having any true abilities in particular. This also wasn't too usual - there were quite a few family members and friends of the Deviants who were like that, and the professors who ran the whole thing were much the same. Still, it did make the green hair stand out.

And then there was his behaviour, and that was the most perplexing at all.

He had not once spoken about his past, other than a vague mumble about how it wasn't a very interesting topic of discussion, and had explained that he had - somehow - managed to learn about what the government was doing and wanted to stop it. This, at least, he seemed passionate about - he seemed to be well aware of how they treated Deviants, was rightly appalled by it, and had a strong view of the future, one where people would be free to live as themselves.

And so, after being filled in by the professors, he had found himself standing uncertainly in Hilbert's room, blinking at the bed he was being offered, rocking on his heels slightly and clinging to the single backpack he had brought with him.

"It's... are you sure you're okay with sharing?" he was saying dubiously, not really making any move towards the bed. "It looks like it's very... uh, small."

"Yeah, that was something we decided early on," Hilda explained from the window. "When we got this place, it had like... five bedrooms or something? And they were pretty big, so we all got our own at first. When more people started arriving, we started running out of rooms, and we decided to divide 'em up." She shrugged a little, pulling herself up on to the sill. "We thought it was better to have smaller rooms with fewer people in them, instead of big rooms that were full of others. There's a rec room that also got divided, and the basement - which also has a level below that with the shelter, we can use that in a pinch - and the attic, too. The attic is for the Flyers," she added with a bit of a grin.

Looking a little on the lost side, he nodded, gently setting the bag on the other bed. "Okay. Um, how did you get such a big place?"

"Professor Juniper's dad owns it," called Hilbert distractedly; he was half in the closet, burrowing around for spare coat hangers. "He owns the building and is supposedly 'renting it out' to some rich family with a bunch of kids. Aha, here they are." Emerging with a handful of wire coat hangers, he carefully bent one back into shape and handed them across to N. "I made some room for you, you've got the right side and the bottom two drawers of the dresser."

"Thank you," N said quietly, accepting the coat hangers and setting them on the bed next to his bag. Biting his lip and rocking slightly (evidently, he believed in multi-tasking his anxiety), he frowned at his sneakers. "Um - when do they serve dinner?"

Hilda glanced automatically at her watch. "Not for a couple of hours," she said apologetically, "It's only four. Why, are you hungry?"

He looked discomforted, and she took that as a yes. "I didn't have any lunch," he muttered, flicking his fingers lightly at the comforter. "Could I have something to eat, please?"

Hilbert let out a soft laugh, stretching out a hand to help N back up. "Sure. We can make you a sandwich or something."

"That's good," N nodded as he rose, "I usually have a sandwich for lunch. Do you have smooth peanut butter and white bread?"

Hilda badly hid a grin.

"Sure," Hilbert said brightly, "We also have crunchy, and we get brown bread too. And gluten-free, but that's just for Serena and she'll kick your ass if you use it up if you don't need to. Come on, the kitchen is this way."

Obediently trailing behind Hilbert, with Hilda trailing behind to ensure that he didn't manage to get lost, N's eyes were everywhere, taking in every detail of the safe house. Tacked, taped, and puttied to the walls were drawings by the kids that tended to be there for only a little while (the Junipers, junior and senior, were in charge of housing and tended to prioritise finding safe homes for families), the carpet was soft underfoot, and the sound of conversation and laughter could be heard further in.

But Hilda's practised ears could note other sounds - sometimes crying, sometimes sounds of distressed conversations or arguments - she could note where the carpet was stained, where the wallpaper had been torn at.

This had been her home since she was twelve. She knew it intimately, both good and bad, and any safe house was meant to hold people who needed safety.

Not everyone had the happiest story. Not by a long shot.

"Right, here!" Hilbert called as they entered the kitchen. "We renovated it a year ago - had to do it on our own, we couldn't risk tradespeople coming in. So it's got two cook tops, a gigantic oven, three microwaves, electric kettles, there's the huge fridge in here and there's also this really big ice box in the basement..." He waved a hand at a door. "And there's a walk-in pantry. Come on, I'll show you."

Reaching for a cola for herself as Hilbert showed N where to find the cereal, the bread, the sandwich spreads, the tinned and dried foods, and the drinks, Hilda studied him curiously. N had a way of holding himself that looked closed-in and tense, like there were secrets trying to burst out of his lean frame and he was trying desperately to hold them in. He bounced on the balls of his feet, he rocked, he looked to be permanently off-balance and only just catching himself, and he started at unexpected noises.

(The direction her gaze flickered in as N bent over to inspect the myriad of bottles on the lower shelves, at least, had nothing really to do with analysis - it just so happened to be a nice view.)

Still, if he had a story, it would come out in time. This was not just a place to hide from authorities - this was a sanctuary, and the members of the safe house - affectionately Club Freakshow, to most of them - had formed themselves into a family. And family helped each other out, no matter what.

She and Hilbert would help N out.

"Right, yeah," Hilbert was saying as he and N exited the pantry, showing him where the plates and cutlery were kept, "So dinners are usually more communal, but breakfast and lunch is like... whatever. Someone will usually be around to help the little kids, though. Do you have any food restrictions?"

N, caught off guard, blinked. "You mean - things I don't eat?" he repeated.

"Yup," Hilda called, pressing her palm against the list. "Hey, bro, see if you can remember 'em all!"

Hilbert let out an exaggerated groan. "Oh, great," he laughed, "Damn, let's see - me and Bee don't eat spicy things and you'd probably set your mouth on fire if you could, Bee, Trev, and both the professors don't eat meat, Serena's gluten-free, Cheren's lactose intolerant, Nate's super allergic to nuts, so don't use the cutlery set with the green handles if you have peanut butter, and Tierno can't have onions or eggs. Got it?"

"Close enough," she grinned, pulling her hand away. "And spicy things are _awesome_. And I _do_ set my mouth on fire." With a chuckle, she let a puff of flame swirl out through her lips. "What about you, N?"

He blinked at her again. "Oh... I don't eat meat. Or any animal products, really."

"Cool, Professor Sycamore will like having another vegan around. There's almond milk in the fridge and stuff, you can ask him later." Hilbert pulled it open, glancing down at the lower shelves. "What do you want to drink?"

N, finally making it to the counter with the bread and peanut butter, shrugged as he unscrewed the top. "I usually just have water," he said sheepishly. "Oh, um... if you have apple juice... I'll have that."

Hilbert reached for a glass with a smile, and Hilda pulled herself up on the counter, letting her legs swing freely. "So, you should be set for dinners," she said lightly. "It's almost always vegan, sometimes it's vegetarian if Professor Juniper is cooking, but there's always options. Same for lunch and stuff - the only meat we keep are like... tinned tuna and that kind of stuff. There's some dairy and eggs and mayonnaise and stuff in the fridge, but there's also other stuff you can have."

He pulled a face, but nodded. "Okay. I hope the dinners are nice, I have the same thing a lot at - at home. Had the same thing a lot. Rice and beans and steamed vegetables, we couldn't get a lot of fresh things."

He had been eyeing the fruit bowl hungrily, and with a grin, Hilda jumped down off the counter and offered him an apple. "Well, we don't get tons either," she said with a shrug, "But if you want some, you can have something. We all share here, right?"

"Yes," he said with a cautious smile, "It sounds nice."

They had ventured out to the back porch to eat, and Hilda had pointed out the features of the yard - how it graded into the woods, to try not to fall into the stream, the swing set beneath the trees, the basketball hoop attached to the side of the building, the high walls despite the lack of neighbours. The group of older members, it seemed, had disbanded already, which Hilda decided was fair enough - the new kids had gone through some pretty awful times, and she would not have been surprised if they were getting dinner in bed again.

"I've never seen a place like this before," N said suddenly, swinging one leg off the edge of the porch. "Where we lived, it - it wasn't really green like this. I've read about it, of course - I read a lot - but they didn't mentioned the way the air smells." He breathed in deeply, as if trying to work out just what made air fresh, and let his eyes fall shut.

Hilda turned to stare at Hilbert in perplexity and received a shrug in return - they weren't far from the city, and the fresh air had just the slightest hint of car fumes to it. Perhaps N had been somewhere in the middle of the city, right inside Castelia or Nimbasa? Or perhaps he has been brought up in hiding - he knew of the government _somehow_, there had to be some sort of history that they hadn't been able to uncover yet.

"We need to fight for this place," he added suddenly, eyes open again and suddenly blazingly bright. "My father has plans. He wants to stop the government and what they're doing and the way they're torturing innocent people. If we don't, more people will get hurt. We shouldn't have to hide." He turned to them each in turn, and Hilda found her breath catching at the intensity of that gaze, found herself nodding in agreement, their inactivity safe but also passive. "We need to fight for an ideal world."

Giving Hilbert another, quicker glance, Hilda nodded once. "We'll fight, N," she vowed softly, and reached out to set a hand on his shoulder.

Carefully, N laid his own over hers and smiled, suddenly more at peace. "Thank you," he said simply, and returned to his sandwich.


	7. Hardy

**Chapter 7 - Hardy**

When Aurea had invited him out to Unova to help take part in a rebellion against the government forces that ran the world, Augustine was not expecting that to involve convincing a nineteen-year-old to try just a bite of ratatouille, really, just try a little bit.

N stared down at the dish in trepidation, a serving of plain pasta set to one side just to be in the safe side, prodding at a bit of eggplant with his fork. "But this stuff looks kind of weird," he said uncertainly, and Augustine suppressed the urge to sigh.

"It's just eggplant!" he said encouragingly. "Eggplant is good! It's extremely versatile, it can be grilled or baked or fried or roasted or mashed or stuffed - and it's a good substitute for meat in a lot of dishes, you really should get to like it, eggplant is _wonderful_..."

"Aubergine Sycamore," whispered one of the girls, quiet giggling coming from the other side of the table.

Pulling a face good-naturedly at the friendly jibe, he gave N a hopeful stare, grinning as the boy carefully stabbed at the piece and took a careful nibble. "It's okay," he said quietly after he swallowed, "Um, I might just have the plain one, though."

"Ah, well!" Giving N a reassuring smile, he speared a piece of his own meal with his plastic fork (there were a lot of people in the safe house, and not an enormous amount of cutlery). "It's a slow process to get used to things if you haven't been exposed to them, I suppose. At least you tried something new!"

N smiled back gratefully, eating his mostly-plain pasta with a little more enthusiasm.

The conversation moved on - the latest television shows, an album that Tierno had downloaded (they were already on the run from the government, what was a little piracy in comparison?), the assignment that Aurea had given them for evolutionary biology ("I'm right here, you know!") - and Augustine let himself relax, finishing off his dinner.

N was settling in... reasonably well, even if he mostly stayed close to Hilbert and Hilda (he and Aurea were discussing letting N teach physics and mathematics to the others - the boy was a prodigy at it), and Rosa and Hugh were sufficiently well-recovered enough that they could start joining the others for meals and classes. Both of them, he knew, still had nightmares about their time in prison, Rosa moreso than Hugh, who still had holes in her memory that made it sometimes difficult to remember a more pleasant past. This, though, was not uncommon at the safe house, and they would soon be introduced to one of their contacts at a safe house further south, who had a trained psychologist amongst their numbers.

These thoughts were interrupted, rather suddenly, by a knock at the door.

Immediately, the table was almost completely silent, only Hugh turning to Nate and whispering a question. With a silent gesture to Calem, Augustine rose to his feet and started for the hallway, with just enough time to catch Nate explain to Hugh, Rosa, and N that they should stay quiet before he moved out of earshot.

Just around the corner from it, he nodded to Calem again, and the psychic boy positioned himself out of sight. And then, affecting a completely innocent and unassuming demeanour, he called out, "Coming!" and opened the door.

It was two young girls standing there, one fidgeting with a bow on her bright pink shirt and looking distinctly wary, the other looking fearless, dark red eyes staring out from beneath dark purple bangs at him with something resembling defiance. "We're looking for a place to stay," the second girl said, and despite her expression, her voice shook just a little. "Um - even if it's just for the night - we need to stay somewhere discrete."

Augustine raised his eyebrows, forcing his expression into something more open and friendly. This was always a dangerous game, a cat and mouse for both himself and the other residents of the safe house, and any prospective new members. He did not know if they were government agents, and they did not know if he could be trusted, if this was the place they were looking for. Right around the corner, he knew Calem was carefully scanning them for any sign of malign intent or duplicity, and they had already worked out what he was to do if he found what he hopefully wouldn't find.

"Discrete?" he repeated innocently, "Is someone looking for you?"

They were sticking close, and this was a good technique for them to use - it gave the impression that the girls were romantically involved, perhaps fleeing a less than supportive environment. It gave them both credible deniability - he was a little impressed.

The other girl, the one fidgeting with the bow on her shirt, gave him a tentative smile. "Well, we just - don't really want anyone to find us," she said softly, "Especially, uh, authority figures."

They seemed legitimate enough. Calem certainly hadn't seen cause to emerge yet.

"Why?" he asked softly, "Do they have a reason to be searching for you?"

The girl with the intense red eyes let out a sudden frustrated sigh. "Okay, enough of this!" she exclaimed, thrusting a small piece of card forward. "Do you know this symbol?"

He took it, glancing down at the symbol on it - a circle, bisected horizontally, almost but not quite in total - in the centre of the line, a small circle interrupted it. It was an internationally recognised symbol, one of safety and freedom and unity, the symbol of the safe house network, and he nodded once, offering them a smile. "I do. Come in."

"They're clear," Calem called as he emerged around the corner, "I think - one of them I couldn't read. Dark-type?" he queried, glancing at the girl with the red eyes.

She nodded once, looking unsurprised. "Yup. Psychic?" she guessed, then turned back to Augustine without waiting for an answer. "Well, you probably know why we're here, don't you?"

"I can guess," he said lightly. "Do you want something to eat? We were in the middle of dinner, I'm sure there's some left."

"Oh, yes please!" said the girl in pink with feeling. "We've been travelling for days on foot, it's really tiring..."

Giving them both a welcoming smile, he gestured down the hall. "Alright, this way! Calem will show you while I lock up."

The trio departed, and he paused by the door, his shoulders slumping a little as he turned the key in the lock. This was always a gamble, and they didn't always know how it would turn out - there were too many agendas that people had, too many secrets, and Calem's scanning could only go so far. Rosa, with her slowly developing ability to see people's auras, would be able to give them another perspective - but still, it never really was anything resembling safe.

Safety was a concept long since gone, for them.

When he did return, he found the two new girls seated at the table and being given bowls of ratatouille (ignoring the conversation going on - "What is this stuff, anyway?" "It's called ratatouille." "Eww, it has rats in it?" "Uh, no, they're vegetables!").

Rosa caught his eye. "They're fine," she said to the table at large, "They don't mean anything bad - although they're still being secretive. They haven't told us everything about why they're here."

Immediately, several pairs of eyes were fixed on the girls.

The red-eyed girl smiled sheepishly, setting down her fork. "I guess we haven't really said the whole part!" she shrugged, "Although it's true, I'm one of the, um, Deviant types. That is _such_ a dumb name. Oh - first, though, we should introduce ourselves - I'm Iris, and this is Shauna."

Shauna waved with a wriggle of her fingers. "Hi!"

Glancing around, Iris frowned thoughtfully. "Is this a good place to talk?" she asked Augustine, "We really need to talk to the people in charge, is that alright?"

"It should be fine." Aurea stood, stretching a hand over to shake Iris's. "I'm Aurea Juniper, and this is Augustine Sycamore - we're in charge of this safe house, and the kids here are the ones who run a lot of the day-by-day operations and rescue runs."

"Oh, cool," Iris breathed, settling back down in her chair. "Okay. Um... this is kind of hard to bring up. How many types are there?"

The group exchanged puzzled glances and frowns. "Once you include 'deviant' types, there's fifteen," Hilda answered, holding on to her fork as if it was a weapon - not that she particularly needed one, when she could set things on fire by thinking about them. "Sixteen if you include Normals."

"No," Iris said quietly, "It's actually eighteen. That we know of anyway."

There was, in answer to this, a very loud silence.

The girl took a breath, glancing at Shauna for moral support. "I didn't lie when I said I was a Dark-type," she said quietly, fidgeting with her napkin. "It's still my primary type. But my secondary type is..."

"Dragon."

Several pairs of eyes turned incredulously towards N.

"Yeah," Iris blinked in surprise, "How do you know?"

He smiled uneasily. "My father," he started, and hesitated again before forcing the words out in a rush. "My father has had dealings with them. They - they run the Unovan government, two of them, called Reshiram and Zekrom. They're Legends." His voice tapered off, quietened, and he returned to staring at the table.

"Right," Iris continued, recovering from the surprise. "My clan are totally peaceful and we don't mess with politics or anything like that, but the Dragons are - look, we're really powerful, so it's usually Dragons who rule the world - not just Unova. We're really strong and fast and it takes a lot to take us down, and there's not much that can stop us if we don't have a secondary! Other Dragons can if they're strong enough, and we don't like cold, so I guess some Ice types are okay, but... there's really only one type that can really compete with a Dragon, and that's a Fairy."

"Which is where I come in!" Shauna said with an embarrassed grin. "I mean, I'm still learning and everything, so it's not like I could beat Legends like that! But Dragon powers don't hurt us and we can hurt them, so the government keeps both types secret so no one knows how to beat them, so if anyone's gonna take down really super powerful Dragons, it's going to be a Fairy." She worried at her lip for a moment, and then burst out, "And I know who. You fight a Legend with another Legend, and the most powerful Fairy type of all is Xerneas."

It seemed, to Augustine, that an electric current had stolen through the room, the last exhalation before the shout of defiance. Xerneas' name seemed to possess its own power in the way that the dragons had not, and he found his hands shaking, very slightly. Hastily, he dropped them in his lap.

"What are we meant to do?" Serena asked pragmatically, seemingly ignoring the strange energy in the air.

"Well..." Shauna hesitated a moment. "Well, we need to find Xerneas, for one thing! They might be the only one who can stop the Dragons. And then we need a way to get there so we can confront them, and I'm not really sure how we can do that."

N, who had been staring at his empty bowl for most of the conversation since his last contribution, looked up again. "I can help there," he said in a rush, "My father might be able to get close to them - he can help us fight them."

"Okay," Iris said clearly, a smile forming on her face. "We find Xerneas, and the guy with the green hair gets his father to help us get to and stop the bad Dragons. And then," she added, and closed her eyes, "We can be free."


	8. Hasty

**Chapter 8 - Hasty**

The next morning found a small group on the back deck, dew still dampening the grass and the sun not yet properly risen over the roof of the safe house.

Still rubbing sleep out of her eyes, Serena found herself sitting back and simply watching, fascinated by the pair - by the Dragon girl, Iris, certainly, but especially by Shauna. A Fairy type... the idea intrigued her, even if by all rights she should have been more wary.

For that matter, so would have Tierno and Cheren, given just how effective Fairy abilities would be against them. If Rosa had not found her secondary typing when she had, she, too, would have been vulnerable - as it was, they were simply at a stalemate. Still, the idea of the energetic girl in pink with the ability to irrefutably hand her backside to her on a platter was intriguing, and she found herself listening to the two newcomers talk.

Her dreams the night before had been... peculiar. Something was approaching, clear shining pink coming up against something dark and red and bloody, and she watched Shauna and wondered what role she would have in the coming fight.

Or perhaps it was Xerneas she could see? Her dreams were not always clear, often muddied and metaphorical, and usually with a tinge of disaster - well, Xerneas' re-emergence would certainly be a disaster for the Dragons, wouldn't it?

"So we don't really know who it could be," Iris was explaining, swinging a leg idly. "There are a lot of Dragons who are Legends, and they're usually foretold - there's some psychics that the clans keep in contact with, and they can tell us when a new Legend is going to be reborn. So Reshiram and Zekrom... those two would have known who they were since they were babies." She shrugged, frowning to herself. "They probably have human names, but I think they would think of themselves as Reshiram and Zekrom more than those names."

"Human names?" Rosa asked curiously. "So - what, they're not actually human?"

Iris shrugged. "I don't really know," she sighed. "We don't know a whole lot about them. They're meant to be immortal, but they also get born... The last time they were born in our clan was hundreds of years ago, I think. They're not from our clan now, anyway - _we_ mostly focus on getting strong to... um, to better ourselves, the elders say. It's some of the others who want to rule. I don't really know what would happen if they were born to ours, maybe the world wouldn't be so shitty."

There was a collective mutter of discontent at the state the world was in, and Serena stared down at her feet glumly.

"What we think," Shauna started saying, and Serena lifted her head suddenly, "Is that - like, a lot of us were kind of born with our abilities, right? But some of us only had them show up later! And one day you think you're just a Normal, but the next day iron burns you really badly and you can suddenly do Fairy stuff, and it's really hard to control at first, and you don't really know what's going on." She winced fractionally, and Serena stared at her carefully.

"Is that what happened to you?" she ventured, and Shauna gave her a sunny smile.

"Uh huh. I was... twelve, I think? And it was really weird and I was just kinda experimenting with it - I didn't want to tell anyone in case it was a bad type, that would be really scary! But some people found out anyway, I guess." She scowled. "I had to run away. But, I was really lucky because I met Iris after only a few weeks. So, we could be runaways together!" She finished with that radiant smile on her face once more, and Serena smiled back despite herself.

Nothing really got her down, did it?

"And what happened next?" Trevor asked with his eyes wide.

Iris shrugged again, stretching her legs out. "We travelled, I guess," she shrugged. "I mean, Unova isn't the biggest region, but there's a lot of potential hiding places. We've been to other safe houses, too." A frown crossed her face. "A lot of them weren't really willing to do much, but I got a really good feeling when Professor Sycamore said you did rescue runs. So, it sounded like you were more involved."

Hilda and Hilbert swapped uncertain glances. "We... kind of do," Hilbert admitted softly. "I know we could do more, but a lot of the time, we only do rescue runs if people request it - like Nate." He nodded towards the other boy, gesturing to Hugh and Rosa. "He asked us to help find Hugh, and Rosa was there at the same time, so we got them both out. But it would just be... way too hard if we tried to raid their prisons."

"We could still do more, though," Hilda argued, folding her arms. "I don't think N arriving just before you guys is a coincidence. If his dad really can get us to the Dragons, now that we know about Fairy types and Xerneas, then we actually have an opportunity for the first time!" She unfolded her arms and smacked her fist into her other palm, a few sparks flying, Bianca giggling nervously and shifting away from her a little. (Hilda, for her part, immediately looked contrite, patting Bianca's knee in apology.)

Rosa cautiously raised a hand. "I know I haven't been here for long, but it's not right, what they do," she said softly. "Their prisons are awful and we were arrested for really wrong reasons - they didn't want us defying them. There are a couple of words for that, and it's 'totalitarian dystopia'. We're living in a bad science fiction novel."

"I'm sure some mean author is having a good laugh at our expense," Iris muttered, then shook her head. "Okay, it doesn't really matter what it's called - it's bad and we need to stop them! So, what do we do now?"

"How hard would it be to find Xerneas?" Calem asked quietly, leaning back against the railing. "If they have any sense of self-preservation, they're not exactly going to be advertising their presence."

Shauna laughed suddenly and awkwardly, tugging at one of her pigtails. "Oh - I forgot to say earlier, I got distracted telling you how I met Iris. That's another thing that's going to make it really hard - Xerneas might not even know who they are yet! Like, I thought I was Normal but then I got Fairy powers, right? Anyway, the point is, I think the Legendaries are like that too. They don't always realise who they are at first unless they're told - Iris had to tell me what type I was, all I knew is that, like... metal, like iron and stuff, burned me and I started getting sick really easily."

A frown crossed Serena's face. "So, conceivably, _you_ could be Xerneas," she pointed out, and Shauna shook her head.

"Nope. Xerneas is meant to have an... an aura, I think. You'd be able to tell. Anyway, we met some interesting people when we were travelling, and one was a Fairy legendary, and she didn't say anything if I was Xerneas."

"So we're back to square one," Calem sighed. "Okay. I think, if we have to, we should try to confront the Dragons anyway - or at least see if we can find out more information. Hey!" he called out suddenly, turning in the direction of the swing set, "N, can you come over here?"

Serena blinked - she hadn't even realised that the green-haired boy was around. But there he was, unfolding his lanky body from the swing, wandering over curiously and dropping himself down between Hilda and Hilbert, peering at them curiously. "What is it?"

"Can your father help us get more information?" Hilda asked bluntly. "I don't think we're ready to face the Dragons, but we need to know more. We need to know what their weaknesses are, if they have secondaries, if there's more that we need to take care of, what the structure of the government is - anything."

"Information?" he blinked, then nodded, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. "Knowledge is power, after all. I'll contact him later today - I think the best fighters should be ready to go. Can everyone here fight?"

Trevor shook his head immediately, Tierno hesitating before following suit. Calem scratched at his forehead awkwardly. "I'm really more of a support person," he muttered, and Nate grinned in an embarrassed way.

"I think I'd get in the way," Hugh said with a frown, "I don't... really want to poison anyone."

"I'll drive the car," Cheren said with a sigh, and Bianca nodded.

"And I'm going to be the first girl to not go," she said with a little laugh, "I guess it's just mostly the other girls and Hilbert and N, right?"

N's frown deepened. "That's... a small group," he said with a sigh, glancing at Shauna. "Shauna, will you go? We might need you in case we see any of the Dragons there."

"Me?" she asked uncertainly, then nodded once. "Okay. But I'm going to stick with Iris! If there are Dragons there, she might get hurt too, so I want to protect her, okay?"

Smiling faintly, N nodded once. "Okay," he said simply, fidgeting with his necklace. "I don't... know how safe it would be," he admitted, "People could get hurt. If anyone doesn't want to, I won't really blame them - but I think it's important that we try."

There was agreement, and Serena let out a soft sigh. She could fight, she knew that much, but she wasn't sure how well she'd be able to take on a Dragon. And if it was _those_ Dragons, Reshiram and Zekrom, beings of Legend... well, she doubted any of them would be coming out unscathed.

All she could really do was go along, hope they stayed safe - especially Shauna, someone rare and almost precious, a curiosity with a pink shirt and a glowing smile.

And then she bit her lip, because perhaps she was feeling slightly infatuated.

"So, we, uh -" she said cautiously, "I guess small groups are okay if we're just stealing information, right? We can cover more ground. Maybe we should split into two groups."

"I'm with Hilda and Hilbert," N said immediately.

"And I'm with Iris!" Shauna piped up. "Serena, you can join us, right?"

She offered Shauna a smile, flushing a little. "Okay."

The idea of having to watch Shauna spend all that time with Iris, though... she did not know the nature of their relationship, but there was a small part of her, possessive and yearning, who wanted to spend time with the Fairy girl herself. This was an acceptable substitute, at least for now, though, and she would simply have to cope.

"So that just leaves me, huh?" Rosa said with a frown. "We already have groups of three... I don't really know who I should go with."

"Go with N and the twins," came a new voice, and Serena jerked around to find Professor Sycamore leaning against the door frame, an almost pensive frown on his face. "And I'll go with Shauna, Iris, and Serena. That seems fair - two groups of four, three who can fight and one who can keep an eye out for others."

Shauna blinked once, then nodded. "Okay," she said softly, a strange, lost look on her face. "Okay, we can do that."

"Good," he said simply, "I'm not letting you risk your lives on your own."

And he turned on his heel and walked back inside, Serena giving Shauna's puzzled expression an odd look of her own, shaking her head.

Things were in motion.


	9. Adamant

**Chapter warnings:** violence, blood.

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Adamant**

For all her determination, sitting in an SUV outside a nondescript building in Castelia, Shauna's overriding emotion was definitely 'anxious'.

N's father, via his son, had guaranteed that the government building was minimally guarded, relying on heavy encryption to keep state secrets. Still, with the right passwords and codes, even encryption wasn't infallible - and that that was just what they happened to have now, N holding on to them for now and looking about as confident as she felt.

Shauna drew a breath in, and out again slowly, letting her eyes fall shut, focusing on the power she could feel within her. This was not meant to be a difficult job - there would be very few guards, and they were not expecting any trouble. They would simply go inside (with the key provided for them - somehow, when she had been expecting infiltration, her mental images had been a little more... dramatic than walking in through the front door), break into their two groups to find their targets, get the information needed, and escape again.

"So..." Rosa started uncertainly, reaching up to fidget with her hair, tied back for the first time since her rescue. "So, our group goes to the computer centre, N hacks in, and we put all the information on the external, and the other group goes to the old store rooms and grabs whatever they can find from there, right? And then we meet back here?"

"Right!" Iris said fiercely from her place on the floor (no matter how one cut it, the SUV was not meant for nine people), "And if we see any Dragons, we kick their asses. Right, Shaunee?" Turning to give Shauna a reassuring smile, she reached up to squeeze her hand once in encouragement, and Shauna squeezed back.

Serena, quite hastily, turned away, and Shauna felt a flush crawl along her cheeks. "Thanks, Iris," she said, softly but pointedly. "You're a good friend."

Iris snickered a little (god, Shauna should have never told her about her awkward crush), but at least Serena had turned her head to glance back at her, an uncertain smile on her lips, and that made it all for the better.

Shaking her head, Shauna squeezed her eyes shut. It would help if she could stop mooning over Serena and focus on the mission. It would help significantly, she told herself firmly, if she could pay attention - once they were out, they could focus on maybe working that out.

"So... is everyone ready?" Professor Sycamore called softly from the front of the SUV, receiving a quiet chorus of affirmatives in return. "Okay. Then... let's get this over and done with."

They piled out, and Cheren raised a hand in parting as he moved to the alleyway where he would stay parked. Iris gave Shauna a thumbs up and quickly slid around to ask N a few more questions about their part, leaving Shauna standing next to Serena.

Quietly, she cursed her friend, peering at Serena past her pigtails and frowning suddenly. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, "You don't look so good."

Serena gave her a wan smile, shadows deep beneath her eyes. "I didn't sleep well," she admitted, "I kept having nightmares - I don't know if today is going to be successful or not. My visions are never clear. It could be a disaster, but it could go fine and the dreams are about something else."

She nodded slowly. "It must be hard to deal with," she whispered - they were getting close to the doors. "It'd be good if you'd be able to use it to find Xerneas, huh? Or to find if there's any weaknesses the Dragons have..."

But she would know when they found Xerneas, wouldn't they? The legendary she had met earlier - she had told her as much, that Xerneas at the height of their powers would be instantly and immediately recognisable to other Fairy types. And yet that begged the question - what if Xerneas had not yet awakened?

How would they even know?

They were inside now, and Shauna barely dared to even breathe, sticking close to Serena's side as the two groups split apart. Iris was a few paces ahead, peering at the directions Professor Sycamore had in his hands and muttering quietly to herself, and even the softness of that noise served to put her on edge.

Just because there weren't many guards didn't mean there weren't any guards at all.

"Here," Iris whispered suddenly, resting her fingers on a door. Professor Sycamore nodded once, swiping the key card that N had provided them with - the resulting beep was obscenely loud, and Shauna started.

Still, they made it inside unscathed, one of them groping along the wall for a light switch. It flicked on with a sputter, only two of the three lights actually coming on, and one of those feeble at best. The room was dusty, the smell of age in the air, and the filing cabinets that lined the back wall looked like they hadn't been touched in quite a while.

"Okay," Professor Sycamore told them steadily, his voice alarmingly loud in the quiet of the room, and Shauna felt that odd burst of disconcerting awareness again, "Everyone pick a cabinet and start looking."

Shauna nodded, pulling a drawer open with an almighty screech, immediately clapping her hands to her mouth in alarm at the sound. "What -" she winced, "What kind of things are we looking for?"

He shook his head, already going through his own cabinet. "Payroll accounts - they can tell us what positions they have and what the numbers are. It'd also be interesting to see what kind of resources they have. Any documents about structure. It'd be nice if they had anything about secret plans or weaknesses, but..." He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "I don't think they'd be that kind."

With a nod, Shauna turned back to the drawer she had open, picking through the files carefully. It was slow going - evidently, she had picked an older one, and was now trying to interpret fifty-year-old handwriting. "The digital age is a lot easier to read," she muttered to herself, pulling out a likely file and studying it. Nodding once, she set it aside, hopefully the beginnings of a very informative pile.

"Hey," Serena called after a few minutes of frantic searching, "I found one thing - it's a doctor's letter. It says that 'Z' - that's all it says, 'Z' - was treated for nerve damage. That's something that a lot of Electrics get, right? Trevor has some too. Do you think this is for Zekrom, and they're part Electric?"

Professor Sycamore hurried over, peering at the document she found curiously. "It's only marked for twelve years ago," he mused, "So it's quite possible, and it's probably up to date, too. Good find!"

"A very good find," came a new voice, the door quietly closing again, "I would expect nothing less of this group."

Shauna started violently, spinning around and almost jumping into the cabinet behind her. Standing at the door was a man with N's mint-green hair, a single red lens over his right eye, clad in black with a high-collared coat falling to his ankles. She paused uncertainly, glancing at the others - Iris frozen in shock, Serena still clutching her file, Professor Sycamore frowning as he took a step closer.

"You're N's father, aren't you?" he said, his voice cautious but even. "I really must thank you - we wouldn't have been able to get in without your assistance and knowledge."

The man stared back coolly, then nodded once. "I am. I must say, I was hoping for a larger group. Where is that son of mine?"

"We split up," Serena said with a frown. "They're in one of the computer labs getting the electronic data - we thought it'd be quicker."

The man's visible eye twitched once. "So you're not all here yet. I see." And then his gaze fixed itself on Shauna, and she felt herself shrinking back, some instinctive and ancient warning system starting to scream out at her - to run, to get away, that this man was not to be trusted.

Iris, it seemed, felt much the same way - she took a few steps towards Shauna, the expression on her face blazing.

"And you must be the Fairy girl, are you not?" he said quietly. Shauna clung to the filing cabinet, feeling naked under that searching stare. "Hm - you're still a child yourself. Tell me, how do you expect to be able to take on Dragons? And what of the greater threat, the one you don't even know about yet?"

She opened her mouth then closed it again, biting down on her lip and trying not to show the creeping fear of 'the greater threat' he had mentioned. "I don't - I don't know. I - I know I need to get stronger," she admitted, "I know I'd just get in the way, but - but I want to stop them! I have to, or we're going to be hunted down until we're killed! And if there's a bigger threat, we'll stop them too!"

The man paused for a moment, considered, then nodded. "Good. In that case, I think I _will_ use you to take out Reshiram and Zekrom and install myself as leader." And he strode forward, one hand outstretched to grab her.

Shauna's eyes widened.

And Serena practically threw herself in front of her, a cry of, "Don't touch her!" erupting from her lips, a purple-black flicker of light extending from her outstretched palm in the man's direction. Shauna felt herself stumbling backwards, pushed out of harm's way by Serena's other hand, and she barely managed to catch herself before the man's features twisted in a snarl and a pulsating twist of red and blue energy struck Serena square in the chest.

She hit the floor, and a scream tore itself from Shauna's lips as she dropped to the other girl's side. "Serena!"

"Dragon," snarled Iris, energy of her own crackling in her hands, shaking visibly. And suddenly, Shauna realised what would happen - Iris would not be strong enough, this man, this Dragon would overpower her, her friends would be taken out one by one and she would be forced into whatever the Dragon wanted of her...

"A baby Dragon," he drawled back, his hand raised high again. "Haven't you ever been taught to listen to your elders and betters, girl?" And the energy began crackling around his hand again, drawn back to deliver another blow, and Shauna could not move, could not breathe -

"No!" Professor Sycamore shouted, shoving Iris out of the way of the attack, and Shauna let out a shriek almost in anticipation of the sudden brutal attack -

Except he was still standing there with raw shock on his face, the attack dissipating like water, one arm still outstretched to protect himself from the blow that never really came, and then the air was full of light.

Almost rippling through the air like a heat haze, the room awash with the colour of watered-down blood, Shauna felt her muscles growing warm and fluid and bright, some deep well of energy tapped that left her invigorated and gasping at the sudden rush of power. She half turned to Professor Sycamore, her lips parted in a question, and found him staring at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly, as if disbelieving of what they were.

Around him, the air rippled and burned, and Shauna drew her breath in at the sight, at the strength she could now feel.

Three things happened, very quickly.

A cold, calculating, knowing smirk crossed the man's face, and he raised his hand to slash through the air.

The nauseating stink of metal filled the air, the flickering light catching a flash of something gleaming and wicked.

And Professor Sycamore hit the wall with a scream of pain, crumpling in a heap on the floor, blood already soaking into his shirt.

"Professor!" she shrieked, scrambling towards him. He was conscious, but only barely, trembling in agony and drawing in choked breaths, and as he turned to face her she found herself freezing in place.

For the pupils of his glazed eyes were not contracted, as she first thought, but formed into two distinct cross shapes.

The man was still approaching, though, Serena still groggy as she tried in vain to push herself up, stretching a hand towards them, and Shauna and Iris found themselves flanking the Professor as he slipped into unconsciousness. And with that lapse in consciousness, the power in the air faded, Shauna shivering as if the temperature had just dropped twenty degrees, letting out the faintest of whimpers as she abruptly found herself feeling weaker and more tired but knowing, _knowing_ what had just happened.

"St-stay back!" she warned desperately, her voice pitching high in fear, shaking in anticipation of the pain she now knew the man could deliver. Her fingers tightened on Professor Sycamore's shoulder as if his presence could bring her strength, longing for him to regain consciousness and to make that desperate desire true; she gulped in her breath desperately.

And then the air lit up in blue, the man pitching forward with a snarl as if being struck from behind. Which, in fact, he had - standing at the doorway, one hand outstretched, was Rosa, with Hilda, Hilbert, and an ashen N behind them.

"I didn't know that was a Fighting technique," she gasped, then half-turned to the others. "Stop him!"

"Get the Professor out of here!" Shauna called urgently, scrambling to her feet and striking out at the Dragon as she passed. N nodded grimly, hurrying to his side and dragging him to his feet with Hilbert's help, grunting from the effort - N was tall, but so was Professor Sycamore, and both were on the lean side.

"We'll keep him back," Hilda promised grimly, and Shauna found herself ducking instinctively as fire and smoke filled the air.

And then they were running, running as fast as they could with the sounds of combat behind them, a sudden slam making her jump and spin around only to find Hilda and Rosa racing determinedly towards them. "We got rid of the doorknob!" Rosa panted as they drew level, "That'll slow him down for a minute. Also, Hilda set some of the papers on fire."

But a minute was not a comfortable time, and they clattered down the stairs noisily, all sense of secrecy abandoned. One of them, evidently, had called Cheren on the way down - the SUV was waiting at the entrance of the building, the doors open. They piled in messily, N and Hilbert carefully dropping the Professor on the back seat, and Cheren called out, "All accounted for?"

Hilda performed a hasty headcount. "Got it!" she called as she yanked the last door shut, and the SUV tore off into the night, sending Shauna tumbling into Serena's arms.

All she had time for was a quick, quavering smile before returning to the Professor's side, Serena dragging a first aid kid out from under the seat. Almost tentatively, Shauna brushed his hair out of his face - his skin was clammy, his breathing pained.

"We should have never fucking brought him!" Hilda exploded from the row of seats ahead, where she had found herself in N's lap from the lack of space. "He was just a liability - we should never bring Normals with us if there's a potential fight, they can't fight back, it's too dangerous -"

"He's not," Shauna said, her voice whisper quiet, and Hilda stopped short. "He's not actually a Normal. He - that man hit him with a Dragon attack and it didn't do anything. The Steel attack -" She spared a glance at his chest as Serena and Iris cleaned his injuries, swallowing hard at the burnt skin around the wound. "The Steel attack, though - it hit hard. Really hard."

"So - what, he's a Fairy-type like you?" Hilda frowned, the heat fading from her voice.

Shauna exhaled heavily. "More than that," she said softly, glancing down at the unconscious professor's face. "He's -"

"He's _what_, Shauna?"

"You didn't see," she started, and her voice cracked. "You didn't see his eyes. You didn't feel it - after that horrible man tried to attack Iris, you didn't feel the aura. Just before he passed out, his eyes..." She drew in another breath, slow and steadying. "His pupils were crosses. They were X shapes. It's an... indicator, I guess? It's a sign..."

Serena set a hand on her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "A sign of what?"

Shauna managed a smile, small and shaky and frightened and hopeful and overwhelmed, all at the same time. "It's - it's him. He was right under our noses all along. Professor Sycamore is Xerneas."


	10. Modest

**Chapter 10 - Modest**

Augustine woke up, and immediately wished he hadn't.

Pain was his first conscious experience, a bone-deep ache in his muscles and bones that contrasted sharply with the searing pain crossing his chest and stomach. Gasping involuntarily, he raised a hand to his chest and encountered bandages and dressings, pain flaring at the contact. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, feeling something constricting around his left wrist and forcing his eyes open again to find it bandaged too.

What on earth had happened to him?

Settling back against the mattress, biting his lip to give him something to focus on that wasn't, well, the rest of the pain, he tried to force his memories, to recall what had happened the night before (he assumed it was the night before, at least - rubbing a hand over his jaw, it certainly didn't seem like he had been sleeping for days). They had gone on the raid, hadn't they, and they had found the store room, and then N's father had shown up...

And then he cringed, because the rest of the memories were falling into place. The man had threatened Shauna, something about using her against the Dragons, against a greater threat they did not even know about. He had attacked Serena, had raised a hand to strike at Iris. And Augustine had pushed her out of the way, had been struck by the attack instead...

Was that how he got to be injured like this? A frown crossed his lips - something was still incomplete.

Whatever it was he wasn't remembering, though, would have to wait - the door was opening, and he turned (with difficulty) to find Aurea peering through the gap, her expression brightening when she saw him. "Ah, you're awake!" she exclaimed, hurrying inside and closing the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"

He briefly considered answering with something flippant, winced, and decided against it. "Like I've been run over by a herd of elephants," he said instead, starting at the scratchiness of his voice. "How long was I out for?"

Perching on the edge of the bed, she glanced out the window. "It's just past midday, so about... thirteen, fourteen hours? Nothing hugely excessive." Offering him a smile, she shrugged. "I guess that's what your body felt like you needed. I'll get you some painkillers, and do you want any lunch?"

The smile he returned was pained. "It would be appreciated. Mostly the painkillers, I think - could I just have some toast?"

She squeezed his shoulder sympathetically and, thankfully, gently. "Of course. Also - Shauna wanted to speak to you. Should I send her in?"

Shauna did? Perhaps he could get a better idea on what happened the night before, and he nodded once. "Sure - although, could I have a shirt?" he added with an embarrassed smile, waving a hand at his bandaged torso.

Letting out a bright laugh, she nodded, pushing open the closet and finding a fairly loose one. Putting it on proved to be a slightly bigger ordeal, trying hard not to groan as the movement pulled at... whatever the injury on his chest was, but finally he had it on, had it mostly buttoned up, and was slumped back against the bed head from the exertion.

"Give me a few minutes before you let her in, please?" he said through gritted teeth, fighting hard against the pain, the sheets bunched up in his hands. Aurea rested a hand on his shoulder briefly and murmured her parting, and the door opened and closed once more.

This was ridiculous. He was in pain and couldn't even remember why, although he _did_ now remember something else, something vital.

It hadn't been the Dragon attack that had done it. He could remember it striking and could remember it doing nothing, and that frozen moment of disbelief that he was still on his feet. And then he could remember nothing else, the memories locked and inaccessible for now.

But it hadn't been the Dragon attack. Somehow, impossibly, he had survived the blow.

Now came a more tentative knock, though, and he straightened up, trying (if at all possible) to look a little more dignified than he did. The state of his hair probably couldn't be helped, but he fixed a smile on his face, injecting as much cheer and energy into his call of, "Come in!" as he could.

True to Aurea's word, it was indeed Shauna there, holding a plate with two pieces of toast and two small white tablets, and a glass of water. "Hi, Professor... are you alright?" she said with a shaken smile, setting her items down on the night stand, then hovering uncertainly, not quite meeting his gaze.

"I'm getting there," he told her optimistically, not really willing to worry her with just how much pain he was currently in. "Why don't you sit on the foot of the bed? There's plenty of room there."

She did so, swinging one foot idly, staring at it as he quickly swallowed the painkillers down. "That's... good," she said uncertainly. "Um... what do you remember from last night?"

Straight to the point, then. Setting the glass down, he let out a soft sigh. "You mean the last thing I remember? That's what I've been trying to work out, honestly. I seem to recall being hit by some sort of Dragon attack and it doing nothing." And that, in and of itself, was... concerning. "I don't remember anything after that."

Her breath caught. "So you don't remember...?" she breathed, finally turning to face him. Her expression twisted. "Oh, um... I was kind of hoping you'd remember..."

"Remember what?" he pressed, and her shoulders slumped.

"Okay," she said in resignation, mostly to herself. "Okay. You stopped Iris from being - she could have been _killed_, you realise, right? You saved her life. And..." With a sigh, she turned to face him more fully. "And I think that's what... triggered it."

He remained silent, biting the inside of his cheek. That danger had only just occurred to him - all he could remember of his own thoughts at the time were that he had to keep Iris from pain, from the same injuries that Serena had received, and that thought made him stop short. "Is Serena alright?" he asked urgently, "And did anyone else get hurt?"

Shauna gave him a watery smile. "She's okay. She's been resting a lot and is pretty bruised, but she's fine. And Rosa got some burns - uh, from Hilda, actually, when they were fighting at the end - but they're pretty minor."

"Good," he said softly. "That they're all fine, I mean. And what was it that was triggered?"

She winced again, silent for a moment longer before shaking her head and simply forcing the words out. "There was an aura in the room coming from you, it made me feel stronger but didn't affect any of the others, you got hit really hard by a Steel move - that's what hurt you, and you hit the wall really hard - and when I ran over to see if you were okay, your pupils were X shapes," she said in a rush. "And - then you blacked out and the others showed up and we fought our way out and got away, but that's... that's what happened."

Something heavy had settled in his chest, some anticipation or fear that he could not put a name to. An aura that strengthened Shauna alone? Cross-shaped pupils? His hands were shaking, and he did not know why.

"If the first attack didn't do anything," he said slowly, "And the Steel one did, then... what does that mean? That I actually am a Fairy type?"

She nodded silently. "That's why your wrist is bandaged up," she said soberly. "The back of your watch - the bit that isn't cloth - it's stainless steel, and it burned you after... after all that happened. I wouldn't touch it now, since - since you've changed, now, you probably won't be able to touch iron at all."

He stared down at his hands, at his bandaged wrist, blankly. "I've always found iron to be uncomfortable to touch," he admitted. "But it normally just felt like... itching, or stinging. It's never burnt me before."

"It will now," she said grimly. "You more than any of us. That cut was actually really shallow, but the metal burns will probably scar forever."

This didn't add up. Augustine reached up tiredly, scrubbing at his eyes before turning his gaze on the nervous girl at the foot of the bed. "Shauna," he said, fighting to speak softly and clearly through the pain and confusion, "Please tell me what this means. What has happened here? What, exactly, am I supposed to be?"

"Xerneas."

It was almost remarkable, he thought with a detached part of his mind, the impact that three syllables could have on him. At the sound of the Legendary's name, the air had turned cold and then unbearably hot, like there was a static in the air. His palms had grown clammy, he was fairly certain his face had drained of colour, he could feel tension in his limbs like a snake posed to attack, like an elastic band pulled back as far as it could go, ready to either spring forward or be torn apart.

It felt right. That was, perhaps, the worst part.

"No," he said, very softly, his hands bunching up the blankets at the lie. "You have to be mistaken."

"I'm not!" Shauna told him desperately, "I know what it was! It - Xerneas - you're - when you're awake, you have this... it's called an aura, the Fairy Aura, it brings strength to all of us like that, and I _know_ I felt it, and - your pupils were crosses, you can't deny it!"

She was almost shaking, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Professor, you have to believe me, I know what I felt, a-and - okay, this is going to sound like a weird crush and it _totally_ isn't because you're like old enough to be my Dad and that's super gross, but I think I knew the moment I saw you that I'd end up following you and - and that's what the Legendaries _are_, they're leaders and guides and - and I'd trust you with anything, I'd protect you too -" Her voice trailed off with a choked sob.

Augustine curled his fingernails into his palm hard, the logical part of his mind still furiously in denial, some deeper instinct fighting against it with all its strength, screaming at him to accept it, to believe it, that it was true and he knew it was true. Instead, all he did was to set a hand on Shauna's shoulder in comfort and apology, to try and calm her down and to slow her sobbing.

Instead, she practically flung herself into his arms, and he fought back a gasp as the pain from his injuries flared up as brightly as the sun. She loosened her grip with a muffled, "Sorry!" and he murmured a reassurance back, finding one arm wrapping around her shoulders and a fierce surge of protectiveness rising in his chest.

Was this what she had meant by being a leader and a guide, this almost paternal urge to keep her safe and happy?

"What do I do now?" he asked quietly instead, and she drew back with a sudden delighted smile on her still tear-streaked face at the words of potential acceptance. "I mean, this is - it's unbelievable. I still can't understand why - after thirty-six years - this would only happen now. I had a good job as a professor - and then ended up running a safe house - and now I'm supposed to be an extremely powerful being of legend whose task it is to take down the government and this 'greater threat' we don't even know about? God save us all," he muttered, the last part to himself.

"Destiny is kind of weird sometimes," Shauna said with a desperate giggle, wiping at her face. "I think - I think you should go see the other Fairy Legendary. There's a place called Challenger's Cave near Opelucid, no one's really sure why it's called that - but she lives there, and she helped me and Iris before, and she can help you." She bit at her lip savagely, then forced out, "And I think I know what the 'greater threat' is, too. Umm... does the name 'Yveltal' mean anything to you?"

The air rushed out of his lungs.

"Yes," he managed to croak through suddenly dry lips, an indescribable wave of emotion - elation, terror, longing, mourning, _love_ - striking him with the suddenness of a gale. "Not - logically, I couldn't tell you why it means something. But something in me remembers."

"Xerneas remembers." She offered him a sad little smile. "There's meant to be a - a connection between you and Yveltal, and I think you're meant to stop them - they're an avatar of destruction, like you're an avatar of life. Oh, yeah," she added suddenly, "You're an avatar of life."

"So no pressure," he said dryly.

She pulled a face at him, quickly sobering up again. "It just... makes sense," she said quietly. "They would show up when you're around, and - they represent destruction. It's not really hard to see that they'd be a big threat. And..." Drawing in a breath, she turned to face him directly. "I want to go and find them. I can find out if they _are_ a threat, and if they are, I can try and find some information. And - anyway, they're meant to be Dark. I'm supposed to be stronger than that."

"No," Augustine said quietly, and she lifted her head, indignant. "It's too dangerous. I'll go and find this... other Legendary in Challenger's Cave and see what we can find out, and you'll stay here with the others where it's _safe_."

She let out a heavy sigh, a pout on her face, and Augustine had the sudden impression of just what it would be like to have a teenage daughter. "Okay," she finally said, "If you say so."

But the expression on her face was quietly scheming, and he had the distinct sinking feeling that she would try something risky. Struggling to sit up, he set a hand over hers. "Shauna, I promise I will work this out," he told her seriously, and she managed a smile in return.

"I know. Thanks, Xerneas."

"That's Professor Sycamore to you!" he said with an automatic grin, although not without some genuine unease at the name. It still did not feel like his own, he still could not see himself as anything other than Augustine Sycamore - it was still a lot to take in.

"Thanks, Professor Sycamore," she corrected with a smile, "I'll let you get some more rest, okay? And, um, your cold toast."

He waved a hand dismissively in the direction of the toast. "Oh, the horrors of cold toast. I'm sure I'll manage." And then he offered her a smile, cautious but more genuine. "And thank you for telling me. No matter how hard it is to believe, I appreciate being told."

"You're welcome," she grinned back. "See you at dinner, probably!"

And he was left alone, with nothing left to distract him from his thoughts but a few slices of cold toast and his pain. He let out a sigh, then reached for a slice and bit down on it slowly.

Now what?


	11. Quiet

**Chapter 11 - Quiet**

Beds were a good thing.

Stretched out on his side with the blankets pulled over his head and his nose buried in the pillow, N was of the firm belief that he was never leaving his again.

The morning had started out... poorly. Well, it had really started the night before, and very few at the safe house would actually look directly at him when they had arrived back, the stares as he helped carry the bloodied Professor back in almost accusing. N had taken him to his room, had showered (he had blood on him, he had blood on him and he hated it and it was uncomfortable and smelt terrifying and nauseating and his hands were shaking as he had pulled the bloodied shirt away from his body), and had immediately gone to bed and feigned sleep, and there had been no opportunity for anyone to talk to him.

Instead, they had waited for breakfast, and then the questions had started.

"Why did your father attack the girls, N?"

"What did your father want to do with Shauna, N?"

"Professor Sycamore got hurt because of your father, N."

"N? Did you know about this, N?"

He had stared down at his cornflakes, the words running together into a cacophony of noise, blurring into a rush and roar of sound, and he had pressed his palms over his ears to drown them out, feeling his eyes grow hot and itchy. There had been a thumping noise, and he had cringed hard, forcing his eyes open to see that Hilbert had dropped his hand down on the table right beside him.

He had shied away, but Hilbert had set a hand on his shoulder. "Come on," he told N softly, "Let's get you back to the room."

Hilda had stood as well, giving most of those at the table a hard stare. "We'll find out," she said, and her words were indistinct but audible, "But for now, leave him alone, for god's sake. Can't you see he's upset?"

The twins had guided him back to the room he shared with Hilbert, and he had toed off his shoes and stumbled back to his bed. And then they had closed the door behind him, and he was left on his own at last - piece and quiet, solitude and silence to undo the white noise that was invading his senses and silencing his words, the chance to decompress.

He had fallen asleep again with reasonable speed, drifting in and out of dreams and deep moments of stillness and hazy awakeness. And it had been peaceful, yes - but he knew the accusations would still be there when he emerged, something that was not going to go away just by sheltering from the storm beneath the bed covers. That was enough to keep him from managing to relax entirely (although, admittedly, being able to relax entirely was probably a foreign concept in and of itself), and he was wide awake and anxious by the time the door opened again.

"N?" came Hilda's soft call, her normal abrasiveness turned down a notch. "Can we talk?"

He poked his head out of his blanket fort, giving them an uncertain look before nodding once, and she let herself in, Hilbert close behind. "I brought you some lunch," Hilbert said with a cautious smile, and N stuck his head back out a little further, finding him holding out a plate with a sandwich on it (smooth peanut butter on white bread), and holding a glass of apple juice.

"Thanks," he said softly, pushing the blankets back down and shivering at the sudden loss of warmth and weight. Carefully, he took the offerings, swinging his legs off the bed and settling cross-legged on the floor.

"We have to talk," Hilbert told him gently, sitting himself down as well.

N stared at the glass, watching condensation drip down the sides. "About what?" he asked, not lifting his gaze.

"About your father." Hilda dropped herself down as well, leaning back on her hands. "You said, back when we first met, that your father had plans to stop the government so people didn't need to hide. Then you reveal that he's had dealings with the Dragons. _Then_ he helps us get information - which we actually do have now, which means that he actually did fulfil his end of the bargain - but at the same time he tries to kill some of us and kidnap Shauna so he can use her as a weapon so he can take over the world, and you supposedly have a change of heart and help us all escape."

Summed up like that, N had to concede, it did not sound good. Tugging at the hems of his pants, he rocked himself gently, staring at his glass.

"Is there anything else you want to tell us, N?" Hilda prompted gently.

"What I told you was true," he finally said, "Just not... all of it. He does want to stop the government so people don't get hurt any more. He's a Deviant too, he's Dark, but because he's also a Dragon, they couldn't really just... hurt him like the others. So they locked him away, and locked me away in case I was the same." He rocked a little more in frustration, digging his fingernails into the carpet. "And it was a nice place with carpet and good beds and everything, but we weren't allowed to leave."

Hilda and Hilbert turned to look at each other, and Hilbert frowned. "But Iris is like that," he pointed out gently, "Dark and Dragon, and she didn't get treated like that. When she left the Dragon Clan, it was because she disagreed with some of their views, but she _was_ free to leave."

Something in N's stomach twisted hard, the cold hard knot of something illogical. "I don't know why!" he insisted desperately, "Maybe they were from different clans? Father said that Reshiram and Zekrom personally were involved in getting us locked away, he really does want to get rid of them because they really are hurting people -"

"So he can rule the world himself," Hilda pointed out skeptically. "What makes you think that he'd be any better? Shauna said that he was aiming to kill Iris!"

It was getting overwhelming again, things were getting washed-out and overly sharp. "He - she must have been mistaken," he said, and bit his lip hard. "I - he - he told me to bring you there and - he didn't want to hurt anyone, but he said that he needed Shauna's help and - I didn't want him to hurt you because he's Dark so I made you stay with me and I made Rosa stay too because - he's my father, I didn't want _her_ to hurt _him_ - he told me no one would get hurt!"

Hands twisted into his hair by the end of the little speech, biting down on his lip to focus on that pain, he squeezed his eyes shut. Serena had been hurt and Professor Sycamore was lying in a bed because of his father, and the love and devotion was so mixed up with fear and uncertainty that he could feel his eyes growing hot again, his breath catching in his throat.

"N," Hilbert pointed out gently, "I don't think you're lying, but I think he did lie to you. They all told us what happened - Serena has those precognitive abilities, she said that she had dreamed about the raid going badly and someone meaning to hurt them, and - I don't think your father is a good person. I think he's someone else who needs to be stopped. You brought us back there because you knew it was wrong, didn't you? Because you knew he's bad?"

Miserably, he nodded once, and then felt the familiar sharp twist of guilt and shook his head again wildly. "No, he's - I mean - he's my father, I'm not allowed to say, he'll - he didn't mean it - I just didn't want anyone to get hurt," he finished in a small voice, and again, Hilda and Hilbert looked at each other.

And then they were flanking him, Hilda sliding the half-eaten sandwich and glass away to wrap her arms around him, Hilbert's arms slipping around his middle from behind, resting his chin on N's shoulder. N stiffened and then sagged again, suddenly caught up in the sensation of good pressure and warmth and the unfamiliar feeling of behind hugged, and some wall so far up he could barely see the sky over it was, slowly, beginning to crumble.

"We're going to help you," Hilbert told him, and he felt Hilda nod. "Your father isn't a good person, and I think he's treated you awfully as well, and - we'll stop him too, if we have to. If that's what it takes to be free. Him, and the Dragons, and the other one - Shauna told us about them after she saw the Professor, Yveltal or whatever their name is - we'll stop them all."

Finally, he nodded, shoving the part of him who had automatically and timidly spoken up in defence of his father far, far away, locking that voice away until he could properly examine it. And then he closed his eyes and leaned into the warmth and support, revelling in being touched and held, tentatively wrapping one arm around Hilda's back, tilting his head to lean against Hilbert's shoulder.

This was better, wasn't it? This had to be better than everything he had been told from as early on as he could remember.

There had to be another way.

And maybe his father was not right.

The door creaked open again, and Iris poked her head in, blinking in bemusement at the pile of tangled limbs on the floor. "I don't mean to interrupt," she said lightly, hiding a grin, "But have you seen Shauna anywhere?"

Hilda shook her head, pulling away a little. "No - not since she briefed us about Yveltal. Why?" she frowned.

Iris's expression fell. "Because no one can find her at all. She's disappeared," she said quietly, and closed the door behind her.


	12. Bold

**Chapter 12 - Bold**

It was raining in the desert.

Waters swirled around Shauna's ankles as she carefully picked her way through what was once the baked earth, wincing every time loosened debris struck her legs, using each lightning strike to find her next landmark. The desert that stretched between Castelia and Nimbasa was not huge, she knew, and it was almost impossible to get lost in - not with two major cities on either end, not with the coast bordering the peninsula on its other sides, not with the massive military base on the eastern side. She knew that, eventually, if she kept walking, she would end up at the sea or in the city (or, if she was horrifically unlucky, at the military base), and either way, she would be able to find her way.

She was not walking to the sea or the city or the military base. She was walking to the heart of the desert.

Strictly speaking, too, it was not a true desert but rather a wasteland, lacking a true desert's aridness. This was simply a place that was dead, all life wiped out by some calamity and the rock eroding away without the plants to hold it in place. It was regenerating, but slowly, the rebuilding taking a very long time, and now the nights there were still and quiet.

Aside from the sound of the rain and the wind and the thunder, the intrusion of the real world into a place that had given up on it.

It had not always been this way. She had learned that, once, it had been as full of life as the rest of Unova. But, long ago, something had happened to make this place die.

It was as good a place as any to look for an avatar of destruction.

Still, the desert was a big place, and after leaving the safe house, she had found herself ensconced in the Castelia Regional Library, flipping through old maps. She had found it there, or so she had assumed - an old ruin, mostly inaccessible, partially caved in. Beneath it ran tunnels, and beyond that, few had ventured.

There was a doorway, barely visible, emerging from out of the sand. With the illumination of the next flash of lighting, she fixed her gaze on it and moved forward.

These ruins were a labyrinth, she had been advised. In it, she reasoned, there would be enough space for someone to hide - potentially for a very long time. If Yveltal truly was anywhere in Unova, if they were truly aware of who they were and what they could do, they would quite possibly be here.

The relief of being out of the rain lasted for just a moment before the sheer dustiness of the ruins caught up to her, and she sneezed violently, disturbing the silence in a rather impressive way. Sniffling, she wiped her watering eyes and tugged out the flashlight she had taken with her, shining the beam around the ancient room.

This place pre-dated Unova as a fully-fledged region. None truly knew who had built it, none understood what its purpose had been.

Or, at least, no one who was willing or able to speak knew what this place was.

She found a path that looked slightly less dusty than the rest, and followed it into the passage it wound through.

On the walls were markings, archaic and unknown symbols. If they were languages, it was one long forgotten, and her eyes flickered over them in the light of the flashlight, searching for any sign of familiarity. Here and there, though, were not symbols but drawings of peculiar and unknown animals and creatures, some almost humanoid, some almost animalistic, some so utterly alien she could barely begin to imagine who had carved them.

The path split, and she paused, peering at the carvings ahead, frowning. One of these was the right path, and she stared at the ground of the two carefully, noting that one seemed a little less dusty than the other two. And the carvings...

On the path less travelled was a carving on the floor of three immense creatures, each wreathed in a different element - one bathed in flames, one crowned with lightning, one emerging from something jagged that she first assumed was rock but then decided was ice. She gazed at them, at their wings and their snarling faces, and one word came to mind.

Dragons.

These were true dragons, the beings that the Dragons of her world had been named for.

These marks were undisturbed, and she turned to the next path, not sure she wanted to choose the path with three such fearsome beasts. So she searched out the next, and found a surprise, dropping to her knees in front of the rock to study it.

The carving of a deer was meticulously clean, only the barest few specks of dust clinging to the engraving, the deeply-carved majestic antlers clear and bright and the rock around it worn gently smooth. Beside it was a great bird, its wings spread wide and its long tail feathers streaming behind it, and this carving was marred by a deep line slashed in the rock.

"Xerneas and Yveltal," she murmured, knowing even as she spoke that it had to be true.

"Yes," came the quiet confirmation, and she lifted her head slowly, the light of the flash light barely illuminating the shape of a man leaning against the rocky wall of the tunnel. "You are one of his, are you not?"

She had been half expecting it, and yet she still had found herself caught off guard by the Kalosian accent. "One of his?" she repeated uncertainly.

"One of Xerneas'," he clarified, "A Fairy type, like Xerneas. Are you not?"

Shauna nodded once, gazing up at him, her eyes slowly adjusting enough to see the shock of red hair, the dark suit lined with red, the fur around the collar. "And are you Yveltal?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he repeated, and then let out a sigh, turning back to the unexplored part of the tunnel. "You're soaking wet. If you've come all this way, you may as well get dried off before you catch pneumonia."

Pushing herself to her feet, she hurried to catch up with him, cursing her shorter legs. "Did you know I was looking for you?" she puffed as she drew level, peering up at his face and finding little expression there. "I mean, I don't mean any harm or anything! I just..." Running a hand through her soaked hair, she shrugged, discomforted. "There's people saying that you're a great threat. I thought I would come here to see what your side of the story was."

He glanced down at her, and she found herself on the receiving end of a very blue stare. "Not many people would seek out an avatar of destruction to hear their story," he said dryly. "Your courage certainly isn't lacking, girl."

"It's Shauna," she corrected, flashing him a smile.

The corner of his mouth twitched, probably the closest she was going to get to a smile in return. "Then you can call me Lysandre."

And they continued on in silence.

"Do you live here, in the tunnels?" she asked once.

He shook his head. "Further on, in the mountains," he said, "In the ocean air."

"How long have you been in here?" she asked a little later.

"Nearly two years," he said, and a troubled frown crossed his face. "I've been in Unova for a few years longer than that."

She hesitated. "And - you're from Kalos, aren't you? Just - your accent."

He cast her a glance, then nodded once. "Yes."

He wasn't very talkative, Shauna decided with a sigh, and then decided that that was probably understandable given what he was and his... living conditions. "Is it just you here?" she asked quietly after a few more minutes of steady walking, and he slowed for just a moment.

"It is," he said evenly. "There are those I know, mostly those of the Dark and those of the Sky - who bring me supplies. But I live on my own." Again, he turned his head towards her. "I do not usually have visitors," he said, and it sounded like a confession.

She offered him an attempt at a grin grin at that. "Well, you don't really have a convenient address, huh?" she pointed out, and, to her surprise and gratification, he chuckled once.

The path, which had been sloping downwards since she had entered the ruins, was now beginning to rise again, and she was vaguely aware that they had turned in the direction of the low mountains - cliffs, really - that edged part of the desert near the sea. Yveltal was meant to be part Flying, wasn't he? It made sense, then, to be high up, in the open air.

And speaking of part Flying... "Lysandre?" she ventured carefully, and he made an questioning sound as he turned to peer down at her. "Those carvings we saw - you said they were Xerneas and Yveltal, but - one was a deer and one was a bird. But you're - well, you look human. And the other ones in the other tunnel - they were actual dragons, weren't they?"

"Ah," he said slowly, and returned his gaze to the passage ahead, where Shauna could see that the path was worn smooth. "It is... unproven, so far, but I suspect those were the forms we originally took. We - the old ones, the ones that people call Legendaries - are... reborn, for the most part, in each life, although there certainly are true immortals. Arceus, for example." He shook his head. "It is believed that Arceus is the creator of everything, and it has retained its original form, an indescribable white and gold creature."

Shauna's eyes widened. "The creator of everythi- it's _God_?" If anything was going to be a God, it would be a being of legend, certainly - but she was not expecting it to be confirmed in such a way.

"Perhaps," he said with a shrug. "Very few have ever met Arceus. Still, Arceus may represent what we used to be - beings, not humans. When I first came here..." The frown deepened on his bearded face. "When I first came here, I saw the carvings you saw earlier. And I recognised myself."

"Why did you cross it out?" she asked quietly.

Unexpectedly, he chuckled. "I said that I recognised myself. I did not say I was _receptive_ to recognising myself in the form of a great ancient bird. I came here at a time when I had barely accepted my identity."

She swallowed once. "And the image of Xerneas?" she prompted gently.

He shook his head and extended an arm, and Shauna started when she realised he had pushed open a door, solid and metal. Beyond this was another corridor, but with the stone floor polished smooth, the walls cut evenly, a few electric lights mounted on the walls and stairs marking their steady rise. Her question forgotten, she found herself staring as they progressed. "Did you make this place?" she asked in sheer fascination.

Again, he shook his head. "No. I found it abandoned and cleaned it up, and acquired the furniture required in... various ways. It's up ahead."

And true to his word, directly ahead was another door, this one a plain old oak door with a regular bronze knob and keyhole. The key he drew from his pocket, turning it easily, and it swung open with the barest whisper.

Beyond the door was a home, with simply no other way to put it. They had passed straight through the mountains, it seemed, for directly ahead of them were windows facing the sky, high enough and angled so that neither boaters on the water nor those in barely visible Driftveil would be able to see in. Most of the windows were closed; one was open, the cliff above hanging over enough to shield them from the rain, and through it, Shauna could hear the crash and boom of the waves.

The floors were flat and even and covered in rugs in rich reds and pale creams. A long, low sofa sat facing the windows, and the wall nearest it was virtually covered in bookshelves. A small wooden table with a single chair sat near what looked like an exceedingly well-stocked kitchen, given that it was a cave in the mountains, the walls not concealed by bookshelves or dotted with windows were covered in art, and three doors led further inside.

"There is, in fact, a guest room," he said with a nod to one of the doors, "Although I have not actually seen any good in bringing a bed in. If you wish, you may sleep on the sofa, and then tomorrow, you may hear my story." Moving to a cupboard, he removed a couple of blankets and a towel, handing them to her with an apologetic nod. "I am sorry, I don't have any spare pillows. One of the cushions may be an option."

"That's fine," she said with a sheepish smile, carefully carrying the blankets so the sofa. "Um, I'm sorry for the intrusion, just... I figured I should actually find out what you wanted before anyone came in with all guns blazing, huh?"

"How very un-Unovan," he drawled, and straightened up. "The bathroom is the room in the centre of the doors. Goodnight, Shauna, and I apologise for not being able to reassure you any further."

And he strode to the door on the left closest to the windows and disappeared through it, leaving Shauna standing in the middle of the living room, clutching the towel, and wondering if perhaps she had made a mistake.


	13. Jolly

**Chapter 13 - Jolly**

It was strange, the knowledge of someone else being in his home.

Lysandre had woken early and had not yet managed to get back to sleep, restless and ill at ease with the intrusion that was, admittedly, of his own making. He had been the one to invite the girl back, and even if she had found her way to the door in the first place, he would have had little reason to open it, and no matter what, he could not leave a cold and wet child in a dark place - but the simple fact remained that someone was there who was not usually there.

He had found himself seated at the window, one leg dangling freely, as the sky gradually lightened over the far-off mountains, on the wrong side to see the sunrise (but oh, the sunsets!) yet its effect still clearly visible. The last of the stars were fading by the time he moved, the air beginning to warm and stir, as readable and as clear as words on the page of a book.

It was going to be a nice day.

All was silent as he gathered his clothing and stepped out of the room for a shower, the girl still sleeping peacefully on his sofa. When he emerged again fifteen minutes later, dressed and groomed, she was only just starting to stir, and lifted a rumpled head to blink at him blearily.

A sleepy smile crossed her face, even at six o'clock in the morning. "G-good morning," she yawned, stretching and then reaching up to rub her eyes.

"Good morning," he returned calmly, briefly unsure how to proceed - it was not every day that a Fairy child turned up at their door, wanting to learn if they were truly a threat. "Ah - if you would like to shower, do feel free."

"Thanks," she said with a quick fleeting smile, burrowing through her backpack and then glancing back up with a dismayed look. "There's sand all through it!"

He blinked once. "You did walk through a desert," he pointed out, then sighed and shook his head. "If you do not mind wearing something of mine in the mean time, we can launder them."

She scratched at her rumpled head, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. "Oh. Um... okay. I think I can wear my own underwear, though."

He blinked again. "Yes. Ah - that would be preferable," he said dryly as he returned to his room - Shauna was pleasant enough, but he was fairly certain he didn't want a child running around his home without underwear. Returning a moment later, he held out a button-up shirt in deep cerise - loose on him, it would cover Shauna adequately. She took it, and, flushing, carried it and her bag to the bathroom.

Lysandre dropped his forehead into his hand, muttered a, "Merde," and wandered into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, glad that he at least had more than one set of cutlery and crockery.

Did teenage girls eat porridge? Well, he reasoned as he measured out the oats, she could certainly learn how to.

And later, he decided, it wasn't a bad thing, eating cinnamon and maple syrup porridge by the windows, the smell of the sea breeze and their breakfast mingling gently, Shauna swinging her legs in a shirt that fell almost to her knees and chattering about something inconsequential - the view, or the meal, or the paintings he had collected on the walls.

It felt pleasant. It felt _normal_.

And she had, at his prompting, spoken about herself as well. He learned of her flight from her home town, of wandering the streets for weeks as a twelve-year-old, of her meeting with the young Dragon. He learned of her meetings with others, her dealings with the safe house system and of her meeting with the Fairy legendary, Diancie, and of searching for somewhere, anywhere, that would have people with courage enough to confront the Dragons.

This was a world that had produced abandoned and fugitive children. A world that committed abductions and arrests and experimentation and torture. His nails dug in to the fabric of the sofa.

She slowed. Stopped. Peering up at him, a frown curved her lips. "Lysandre?" she started carefully, "What happened to you?"

He closed his eyes, and began to tell his story.

Lysandre had been born to a wealthy family near Kiloude in far-off Kalos, a relatively happy and content child who enjoyed playing with the family cats and acting the hero in his imagination. He had gone to school and achieved top marks, and with that, he had left for the capital of Kalos - dazzling Lumiose.

There, as a young man with wealth and influence and intellect, he had excelled - performing superbly in his studies of electrical engineering, learning how the world worked, becoming an advocate and an activist fighting to make the world a better place. He had made a home, he had fallen in love, he had been happy.

And then an apparently routine clandestine psychic sweep of the city had found the blind spot that was him shortly after he turned twenty-five, and he had been rounded up with hundreds of other Dark types and promptly imprisoned.

From then on, his life had effectively ceased. Lysandre kept his voice steady through sheer force of will as he explained how they had carefully examined and experimented on them, dosing them with untested drugs just to see what would happen, causing pain just to see a response, hurling other types at them to see what secondaries existed. And then they had rounded up him and a few of the other Fliers, and he had been sent away, sent out of Kalos to Unova, to be held under the jurisdiction of the Dragons.

They had been searching for Yveltal. And now they believed they had them.

One by one, the other Fliers began to disappear - to death at their own hands or the hands of others, to other facilities, to rot away in cells and be used for whatever use they could find for Deviants. And soon, only he remained - the last one, confirmed to be Yveltal in all but the final test, the only one they would brutalise in an attempt to force him to unlock his abilities, to awaken the Legendary within the man, to what end he did not know.

For seven years, they did this. And then, one day, they asked the wrong question, and Lysandre had awakened to find himself in a prison full of the dead.

For his torturers, once he had learned what had happened, he hoped they had suffered. For his fellow prisoners, he hoped it had been quick. But the end result was the same - he had stolen his interrogator's keys, found some spare clothing, quantities of money, and keys to a car, and had walked out into the Unovan sun for the first time in his life, free but at the expense of the lives of everyone else in the complex, free but with the knowledge of his true self, free from prison but never, ever free from the death he now carried in his hands.

Shauna was, appropriately and unsurprisingly, shocked into silence at this revelation.

"You killed everyone?" she almost whispered, her shoulders hunched. "I - I guess that's okay for the people who were hurting you..."

"But it was unfair to the other prisoners," he said with a nod, "I am aware. On the other hand, did I not spare them more suffering? They would have never been permitted to live freely again."

She bit her lip, having nothing to say to that.

"You came here," he started tiredly, "To see if I was this 'great threat' you had been told about. I am. My desire, once, was for a beautiful world. But this world has become ugly. Conflicts and hatred and the treating of others as subhuman has ravaged this land from end to end. I will learn to harness my abilities and wipe the slate clean."

And yet... and yet. He had not, and yet he had known of these abilities for two long years. For two years, death had lurked beneath his skin, had tingled at his fingertips and lingered in his breath. And he had not, because the simple fact was that he was still afraid.

He did not tell this to Shauna, unwilling to raise his head to face the girl he had just signed a death warrant for.

"But - why?" she whispered, her voice hollow. "I know there's horrible people up there, I'm not stupid! But can't we stop them? Diancie said that Xerneas can help us beat the Dragons and - are you okay?"

Lysandre's breath had been caught, stolen away at the mention of a single name, and he looked away to hide the sudden and overwhelming dampness in his eyes. "Xerneas," he whispered, and stopped.

She bit down on her lip. "Would you kill Xerneas too?" she said softly, her hands clenched in her lap to keep them from trembling.

He pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes hard, squeezing them shut against the intrusive flood of memories - death and rebirth, partings and loneliness, opposition and hatred, companionship and love.

"Xerneas," he repeated, the name soft in his mouth like a prayer, "Has tried to stop me before, in other lives. I cannot see the outcome of any of them, in any of the countless times we have been reborn. This stain on my soul has always been a part of me, no matter what life I live, and it will always cause him pain. This endless cycle of birth and rebirth with Legendaries continually reborn will never end. Not unless I succeed, and destroy life so completely that it will never arise again. If it means saving him from me, then yes. I would."

"I don't think he'd like that very much," she said in a tiny voice, "I think... I think he would want you to find a way to be happy. You said that you wanted a beautiful world - I think we can do that, if we fight and work together, and I think you should kinda... well, you know, talk to him before you try to kill him."

Slowly, he lifted his head to stare at her, the phrasing of her words sinking in agonisingly slowly. "You have met him," he said slowly, and suddenly his heart was beating so furiously he could feel it. "Is he well? Is he - happy? He -" Slowly, he let his breath out, and softly asked, "In this life, what is his name? Please. Please, I do not remember his name."

She opened her mouth once, closed it again, and sighed, and quietly said, "Augustine Sycamore."

He had known it was coming. He had known, and yet it still felt as if some invisible hand had taken hold of his heart and squeezed hard. Of course it was Augustine, it was always going to be Augustine, the centre of his world and the one who he had recognised as easily as his own reflection the first time they had laid eyes upon each other.

"We were in university when we met," he found himself saying softly, "Just after he had returned from a year studying here in Unova, reaching for the same book in the library. It was like seeing myself - I knew him, instantly and intimately, before we had even exchanged a word. We became friends immediately and lovers soon after that, and in the coming years, I would realise I had met my soul mate when I was only eighteen."

And those grey eyes were so, so achingly familiar and he could not remember why, could not remember why Augustine's presence made him so simultaneously elated and grieved.

"We became inseparable, sharing student lodging together, and then, when he finished his doctorate, living together in an apartment. In our home. With him, I was complete, and yet..." Closing his eyes, he let his breath out slowly. "And yet something was not quite right. I realise what it is now - neither of us had awakened to our true identities. Yveltal within me and Xerneas within him had recognised each other, but with the recognition of a dream and all the control of a sleepwalker. I was deeply in love with Augustine as Lysandre, but as Yveltal, something was missing."

He shook his head, bowed as it was against the weight of memories. "But I was stolen away before I could ever learn what it was. I have not seen him for nine years." Finally, he lifted his head to find Shauna wide-eyed and pale at the story, her mouth fallen open. "I ask you again - is he well? Is he happy?"

She glanced away, shrugging uncertainly. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "He's running a safe house in eastern Unova, I left yesterday. There was a man, a Dragon - we tried to steal information and he confronted us, and he attacked Serena and tried to kill Iris and he stopped him, and - he knows, now. He knows who and what he is, and I think he's going to accept it. He knows who Yveltal is, but, um, I don't think he knows it's you." A heavy sigh left her lips and ruffled her hair. "I wanted to find you for - I guess it's for his sake," she continued uncertainly. "Before you do anything, you should at least see him."

Just once, he shook his head tiredly, the yearning to see Augustine again so suddenly intense he was nearly sick from it. "I will see him once," he confirmed quietly. "You may stay here in the mean time, if you wish, or leave, if you wish, and I promise that no harm will come to you at my hand. But when the time comes, I hope you understand that Yveltal's Oblivion Wing will save you too."


	14. Timid

**Chapter 14 - Timid**

_Found Yveltal he's in mountains off desert near Nimbasa. Path from the ruins in desert or big windows facing the water. Was in prison for years and was hurt a lot but escaped after he killed everyone there. Is NOT a bad person but is very damaged and wants to kill everyone to end a cycle of suffering idk? NEEDS TO BE STOPPED! I'm ok for now. His name is Lysandre._

It was a tense group gathered around the kitchen table that afternoon.

Serena had received the text from Shauna earlier that day, and Rosa was fairly certain that Serena had read and reread it a hundred times since them. Even now, she cradled her phone gently in her hands and stared down at the message blankly - she had to have memorised it by now, wouldn't she? - arguing vehemently but still stuck on the message, if her body language was any indication.

Rosa sighed, glancing around at the group. A debate was raging, voices raised in passionate anger - Hilda already on her feet, demanding they do something about N's father, Ghetsis, Serena arguing back just as furiously that confronting Yveltal and rescuing Shauna had to be their top priority.

There were lines in the sand being drawn, sharply and clearly delineated. Hilbert was on his sister's side, keeping one hand on N's shoulder in support. Calem had thrown his support in with Serena, and Tierno and Trevor had sided with their old friends. Cheren had insisted that both were important but Shauna had claimed she was safe and thus Ghetsis was the greater threat; Bianca had argued that they needed to consider all sides before jumping to a conclusion. Beside her, Hugh looked as uncertain as she felt; Nate on his other side looking much the same. Professor Juniper tried to keep the peace and Professor Sycamore said nothing, but instead simply stared at the table.

There was no argument at all that both were threats that needed to be dealt with, that they were a step higher in immediate danger than the Dragons running the government. But now they had found themselves debating technicalities, the order of operations, and Rosa found herself exasperated at both groups.

If she was being logical, then yes, she would have to side with Serena. While Shauna had promised that she was safe (for now, a nasty little part of her brain reminded her), she was actively within the villain's clutches. Ghetsis, while planning world domination, had no true time limit on his plans - they could confront him when they were ready.

And yet... and yet. She had faced Ghetsis herself, had seen the seething hatred in his eyes first hand. And they did not need Shauna to face him - if he was part Dark, then her fighting techniques, especially the skills she had taught herself since her arrival, would be just as effective.

That, and channelling her aura through her hands and using it as a weapon felt bizarrely and comfortably familiar. She longed for the fight, for the confrontation, whereas Yveltal (a Dark type himself, and yet one saved by Flying) was an utterly unknown quantity.

"Look," Bianca finally said patiently, "What if we just like... split into groups? If it's a little group, then it'll be easier to sneak up on Yveltal and rescue Shauna, and then we can throw everyone else we have at Ghetsis. And -" She hesitated briefly here. "And a few of us can stay back here to keep in touch with everyone, right?"

"If you want to stay, Bianca, that's fine," Professor Juniper said gently. "I will as well - I wouldn't be any good in a fight, now, would I?"

Serena slumped back in her chair, visibly relieved. "Good. Well, I'm going to get Shauna."

"So am I," Calem immediately added, then cringed faintly. "Although I might be vulnerable to Yveltal - but I can help the others the best I can."

"I - I can fight him," Trevor volunteered with a quavering voice, "And - Tierno, you're coming, right?"

The other boy nodded fiercely. "You bet! I'm not leaving you on your own, Trev!"

"And it goes without saying that Hilda, N, and I will face Ghetsis," Hilbert confirmed quietly, his hand tightening briefly on N's shoulder reassuringly. "What about everyone else?"

"I'm going with you guys," Rosa told them with fierce relish at the thought of the confrontation. "Even if we don't have Shauna, I can still take him out!" She punched once, twice in the air, then sat back, grimly satisfied.

Nate and Hugh swapped bemused glances, and Hugh contributed, "And we'll go with Rosa, right?"

Iris buried her face in her palms. "I want to make sure that Shauna's safe," she groaned, "But I think I have to go after Ghetsis. He's sort of... my responsibility, I guess? I have to..."

There was a sigh from Cheren. "I don't really want to fight," he admitted. "If I did have to, I'd go with Hilda and Hilbert - but I'd rather stay behind and act as support with Bianca and Professor Juniper."

Serena nodded. "Okay. Professor Sycamore, you're coming with us, right?"

The Professor in question started, his eyes focusing on Serena. "With you?" he started, almost uncertainly.

"Well, because Yveltal is associated with Xerneas and everything, right?" she pointed out. "If you're meant to be an avatar of life and Yveltal is an avatar of destruction, then you'll probably have to kill him to stop him from killing everyone else."

Professor Sycamore did not answer verbally, his gaze dropping to his hands, balled up in fists on the table. "I -" he started, then shook his head, plastering a smile so obviously false on his face that Rosa almost winced in sympathy. "I expect so, if it's for the greater good and all! If you will excuse me," he finished in a rush, and rose so quickly the chair crashed to the floor.

Turning to stare after him for a moment, Professor Juniper shook her head. "Well, that seems relatively sorted," she said quietly. "I don't think we should set out today, or it'll be dark by the time we get anywhere. N, where will your father be?"

N frowned thoughtfully. "I don't really know," he admitted, "Although I think he'd probably try to go somewhere he thinks is significant. What about those old ruins above Victory Road? It's logical that he'd try to go somewhere really grandiose, and there's an old castle up there. And, well, the name." He shrugged, fidgeting with one of his bracelets. "It's logical, but he can be kind of illogical at times, so..."

"It's the best bet we have," Professor Juniper said encouragingly. "In the mean time, I'll go through the data we got, and Calem, why don't you try to sense something? And Serena, have a nap - you may have a dream."

"Right," Serena sighed, and slowly got to her feet, still clinging to the phone.

Professor Juniper brought her hands together, offering the group a smile. "Well, I guess that means that the meeting is adjourned! Everyone, take it easy today - we're going to leave first thing in the morning. And good luck!"

They separated slowly, Hugh giving Rosa an uncertain shrug before wandering off with Nate. For a few uncertain moments, Rosa lingered - and then, spotting Professor Juniper heading in the same direction Professor Sycamore had gone in, quietly fell into place behind her, her footfalls almost silent.

She was heading outside, letting the door swing back behind her - Rosa darted forward as the Professor stepped outside, caught it, slipped out herself and let it fall back. If her actions had been noticed, they had not been acknowledged, and she lingered in a crouch on the back veranda for a moment longer as Professor Juniper strode out across the grass to a morose figure sitting on one of the swings.

"Augustine?" she said gently, just at the edge of Rosa's hearing, and Rosa cursed silently - if she wanted to hear any better, she would have to move closer.

There - the tree was probably close enough.

"No, not really," Professor Sycamore was saying quietly, although Rosa had missed what it was in answer to. "For one thing, I'm still injured."

She pulled a face. That was going to be a distinct hindrance, come to think of it.

There was a squeak as Professor Juniper took a seat on the other swing, pushing gently. "But that's not the only thing on your mind, is it?" she prompted gently. "I saw your expression when Serena read the message out, you looked like you had been kicked in the gut. Are you - afraid to face Yveltal, perhaps?"

"Lysandre," he said sharply. "Not - not that other name. I'm not afraid - I refuse. I won't fight him."

She sat back, the chains of the swing letting out a faint squeak. "You know him," she said in a sudden hushed whisper. "Oh no - Augustine, do you know who this Lysandre is?"

There was a brief silence; Rosa assumed he had nodded.

"Tell me about him," Professor Juniper prompted gently, and Professor Sycamore let out a shaken laugh.

"What do you want me to tell you?" he said, and there was now a distinct note of misery in his voice. "His politics? His favourite foods? The music he liked to listen to? How I would always give him a pair of blue socks for Christmas, and how he would always give me a pair of red ones? How his face looked when he was asleep, with all the stress gone? How I would always wake up to the most amazing breakfasts, because a part of him still wanted to be a chef instead of an engineer? What it felt like to have his hands running through my hair when he kissed me?"

He laughed again, so utterly miserable and defeated that Rosa could almost feel herself tearing up in sympathetic response. "Do you want me to tell you how completely in love with him I was? Or what it felt like to wait and wait one evening for him to come home, and to never learn what happened until nine years later when it turns out he's a force of destruction who's been abused for years and has become a killer and now wants to destroy the world? To be told that I'm the only one who can stop him when I've never stopped loving him for a moment? Because I can tell you all of those things, Aurea. I -"

And his voice came to a choked halt, no audible tears but perhaps close to it, and Rosa curled her fingers hard into her palms.

It could not have been easy for him. In the span of two days, Professor Sycamore had nearly been killed, had discovered he was a literal legend, and had discovered that his long-lost lover was his counterpart, one that had clearly lost the plot and was planning on killing everything. There was no easy answer here, no solution that wouldn't require pain, and yet still only one that simply had to be fulfilled - no matter how it happened, Yveltal had to be stopped from carrying out his plans.

"What now?" Professor Juniper asked softly. "Tomorrow, those kids are going to go get Shauna back - what will you do?"

"Before she left, Shauna told me about another Fairy Legendary," the other Professor said, his voice weary. "Near Opelucid. I don't want to act before I talk to them. I'm going to get the train up there this afternoon." He hesitated, then added, "Please, just... make sure they don't do anything rash. I'll join the others once I see this Legendary and work out what to do."

There was another sigh from Professor Juniper. "If it comes down to it, you know what you have to do," she pointed out gently, and there was a squeak from the swings as she stood.

"I won't kill someone I love."

"I know. I don't know what the answer is either. Good luck, Augustine."

And Professor Juniper swept by, heading back to the house with her shoulders hunched and her aura a frustrated orange. Rosa drew back against the tree silently, praying that she wouldn't turn around - only once the door closed behind her did she let out her breath slowly, conscious that Professor Sycamore was still close by.

"I know you're there, Rosa," he said suddenly, and she jumped so violently she hit the back of her head against the tree. "I can sense the steel in you."

With a heavy sigh, she stood and moved into the Professor's line of sight - he had turned himself around now, watching her silently. "So I guess you're getting used to your abilities, huh?" she said with false levity, glancing up at him and then away again, at the way his expression was calm and measured but his aura swirling with the same rusty orange frustration, dark blue grief, red fear, grey self-doubt, the aching black of physical and emotional pain, all washed out by a flicker of pink that matched what she had seen the other night, faded in his unconsciousness but an undeniable part of him.

"I guess I am," he said flatly, pushing himself on the swing with one foot. "I would like to ask you not to reveal my relationship with Lysandre to the others. Not until we know what the past nine years has done to him."

"Fine," she said with a sigh, leaning back against the tree. "But only if you work out what to do fast."

He nodded once, dropping his gaze to the ground. "I'll find this other Legendary as soon as I can," he reassured her, "I - should be able to work out what to do after that."

Rosa straightened up, took a step away from the tree and towards the house. "Good," she said simply over her shoulder, "Because if it comes down to the choice you make, if you have to choose between him dying or the entire _world_ dying... God, Professor. I hope you make the right choice."


	15. Lonely

**Chapter warnings:** Mild gore/description of injuries, blood, asphyxiation, major character death, panic attacks, trauma.

* * *

**Chapter 15 - Lonely**

It was almost dark by the time he reached Opelucid.

Augustine had been expecting it, at least, and Opelucid was a modern city with plenty of lighting on its own. Once he reached highway nine, though, the darkness would increase dramatically, and the cave itself would be even darker - he was grateful for the small flashlight he had brought, and moved it and the map to his pocket, one hand hovering over them protectively.

He had found a cab, jumpy and uncertain and keeping his head down to avoid meeting the gazes of any of the police, and requested a drop-off at one of the exits off the highway, muttering something about going hiking when he was questioned. The cab driver had raised a skeptical eyebrow - there were monsters in the cave, or so it was rumoured, and bikers and gangs in the area, definitely not rumoured but an unfortunately verifiable fact.

He would have to be careful.

The sun had well and truly set when he stepped out of the cab again, soft dusk light highlighting an old path into the surrounding grasslands. The cave, he knew, was somewhere beneath the highway itself, and he found himself having to veer closer to it than he would have liked, every sense pricked, fingers white-knuckled around the map, excruciatingly conscious of any sound or movement.

When he found the dark smudge, black on black in the near-darkness of almost night, he almost sighed in relief.

Just inside was a small antechamber with a roughly carved staircase leading down, and with one last glance backwards, he descended into the darkness. Once there lit by the faintest glow coming from the entrance above, he settled down on a rock, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. It was not, to his surprise, totally dark - faintly luminescent minerals were visible here and there, just enough to highlight a path. Had the situation been less dire, he would have longed to study them, to work out what did make them glow.

He and Lysandre had once spent a day exploring the Glittering Caves in Kalos, and it was that memory that forced him to his feet again, made him switch on the flashlight again, and keep walking.

He had to do this for Lysandre's sake, and yet he could feel his palms grow clammy at the thought of seeing him again. When he had first disappeared... the thought was painful, and Augustine curled his hands into fists until his nails bit crescents into his palms. When he had first disappeared, for a few desperate days, he had assumed something awful had happened. When no dreaded phone call had arrived, he had switched tracks - Lysandre had left him, in his mind, had had second thoughts about their relationship, had given in to the pressures of his family and decided to abandon having a boyfriend in favour of finding a wife to provide his family with an heir.

And then he had picked up the phone and actually called his mother, the more sympathetic of the pair, and had learned that Lysandre hadn't been seen for weeks.

That awful, cold, hard, stomach-churning jolt of panic and anxiety was not a pleasant memory, and he had involuntarily filled his imagination with worst-case scenarios - that he was lying dead somewhere, that he had been forced into doing something against his will. That someone had taken him and was hurting him.

How painful, nine years on, to learn that this last part was true.

And he had killed to free himself, wasn't that what Shauna's text had said? _Was in prison for years and was hurt a lot but escaped after he killed everyone there_... if it was anything like the prisons that Rosa and Hugh had spoken of, or the experimentations that the twins were meant to have become part of, he could not bring himself to blame him too greatly - but everyone?

She had described him as broken. What had happened to him? Was he even the same Lysandre he had known once?

He rounded a bend, and stopped short - ahead was another stone staircase leading downwards, and within it was light.

Dim light, certainly, but light all the same, and he switched the flashlight off as he cautiously set foot on the stairs, one hand trailing against the wall. It glowed with a luminescence almost of its own, the crystals embedded here and there a deep pink. Augustine reached the bottom, glanced upwards, and found himself looking at a woman.

She was gazing back at him with something indescribable on her face - joy mixed with acceptance mixed with amusement, dark hair wrapped in a braid around her head and dressed in a clean white dress, jacket, and boots, almost in monochrome were it not for the gold necklace around her neck, a pale pink gem nestled in its surrounds. "Xerneas," she breathed, strode forward, and pulled him into a hug.

Augustine stiffened automatically and she pulled back, a faint frown on her face. "What's the matter?" she asked curiously, thankfully stepping back enough to give him some room.

He gave her an uncertain look. "Sorry, but - please don't call me that. I'm sorry, am I supposed to know you? Are you the Legendary Fairy?"

She smiled, but sadly. "You still don't remember everything, do you?" she said softly, and he shook his head. "You do know me, and extremely well - I'm Diancie - but I expect those memories still haven't returned to you."

Despite himself, Augustine managed a wry smile. "Given that I only found out what I'm supposed to be a couple of days ago, that should be understandable, shouldn't it?"

"It is," she told him gently. "Would you prefer that I called you Augustine instead?"

He blinked once, fairly certain that he hadn't mentioned his name. "I - yes, how do you know?" he asked with a frown, and she simply held out a hand for him to take.

Against all conventional wisdom, he took it, finding himself being led deeper into the room, the rock and crystals lit up substantially brighter. There was no need for a flashlight here - the very stone beneath his feet was glowing gently, and he had no doubt that rock and stone was Diancie's domain as well.

"You've only just learned who you are," she said softly as they approached a natural dip in the ground, high walls surrounding it on three sides, enough space for two people to sit comfortably in the naturally carved - or, were they naturally carved at all? - seats there. He hesitated just for a moment, then sat as well. "So it's understandable that you would be confused. I assume you were sent here - I don't think you stumbled across it blindly."

He nodded slowly. "A girl named Shauna told me about you," he said, and her face lit up in recognition. "She said you helped her out - she said you could help me, too." And then he dropped his head into his hands, fingers twisting through his hair, and admitted, "I don't know what to _do_. She said that Yveltal is a threat, that he's going to destroy the world to stop some cycle, but I can't think of him as Yveltal no matter who I'm supposed to be, he's still Lysandre to me, and I'm still in love with him, I can't hurt him, but I haven't seen him for nine years and she said that he's k-killed people before and I'm supposed to be one of the only ones able to stop him but - I can't, I can't hurt him -"

The lump in his throat was too great to speak through now, and he stopped himself abruptly, pressing his hands hard against his eyes, focusing on the pressure there to calm the racing of his heart and the solid mass that had crawled into his chest and died.

There was a shuffle of fabric against stone and, suddenly, a comforting arm across his shoulders. Mindlessly, he turned towards her, dropping one hand and resting his weary head in the other.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "This is never easy for you. We've all suffered, but you - you always seem to get the worst of it." A sad smile flitted across her lips. "Would you like me to explain to you? Explain what we are?"

"Please," he said with feeling.

And she smiled, soft and resigned. "We are... effectively of two souls," she started softly, "The immortal Legendary, and our own human souls. Would it be surprising if I told you that reincarnation is real?"

"At this point?" God, he was going to have to rethink science entirely. "Probably not."

"Well, reincarnation is real," she said in a rather matter of fact way. "And our human souls are reborn over and over. The soul of the Legendaries, though - they are immortal. When the human dies, the human soul rests for a short while before being reborn with the memories of the old life locked away, but the Legendary remains conscious and aware, seeking out its next host."

A frown crossed his face. "You make it sound like parasitism," he said dubiously, "Or possession."

She shrugged, holding her hands up. "It's symbiotic, certainly," she agreed, "But it's more like mutualism. The human benefits from the Legendary's strength, and the Legendary benefits from the human's reality. The Legendary has no form of its own, you see - not any more, although some of us believe that we did a long time ago. And as time goes by in each life, it becomes so complete that we don't know where one starts and the other begins. I've known I was Diancie since I was a very little girl, and I honestly do not know whether I speak to you as Diancie or as the human Diantha or as both of us at the same time. You..." She peered at him carefully. "You still see yourself only as Augustine, and see Xerneas as an external force, don't you? If you allow it, eventually your souls will begin to converge, they're already intertwined, but yours is a very strange relationship."

Augustine raised a shaken hand, brushed his fingers lightly over his bandaged chest. It was so strange, so unreal to believe that another soul resided in his body, that there was something in him immortal and ageless. "How do you get it out?" he asked quietly, and she whipped her head up to stare at him in stunned disbelief.

"What do you mean?" she whispered incredulously.

He slumped back against his rocky seat. "Yveltal is the one that's the threat, isn't it?" he pointed out. "If we could get it out of Lysandre - he'd be alright - wouldn't he? Yveltal's the one who's the avatar of destruction, it's _not_ Lysandre, we just need to get rid of Yvel- ow!" A yelp escaped his lips as a sudden shock of pain raced through him, hissing through his teeth.

"I don't think Xerneas likes that idea very much," Diancie said dryly. "See, the other thing is that there are certain..." She paused carefully. "Bonds, that exist between some of the legendaries. And one exists between you - between Xerneas and Yveltal."

Still wincing from the pain, he shook his head absently. "I know. Shauna told me - I suppose you told her?"

She reached out carefully, squeezing his shoulder once. "Actually, you don't really know," she said quietly. "It's - for most of us, it's straightforward. Many of us exist on our own, but others exist in pairs or trios or quartets. And they always choose souls that are destined to be close together and develop a connection that's almost empathic - siblings, or parents and children, or the closest of friends, or particularly close enemies, or lovers - like you and Lysandre. You know," she continued thoughtfully, "Given the nature of your relationship, and given your prolonged absence from each other, once you _do_ reunite..."

She paused significantly, and Augustine raised an eyebrow. "What will happen when we reunite?" he pressed, and she grinned.

"Well, the sex would be _amazing_."

Augustine groaned, covering his suddenly flaming red face with both hands. "Oh, mon dieu. Don't - say that to someone you've only just met!" he protested, biting his lip against the part of his imagination that was, indeed, intrigued by the prospect.

She laughed. "Xerneas, I've known you for millennia!"

"Don't call me that either," he muttered, peering out through his fingers. "Um... how amazing are we talking, here?"

"Sorry. If all goes well, you can find out yourself," she grinned, her expression becoming solemn again. "Like I was saying, though, you really don't have any idea at this point. You and Lysandre, Xerneas and Yveltal - we're usually born to different bodies every time, different identities, different relationships. Often it's the same - Diancie and Diantha have converged more than once - but usually it's different. But the two of you are _always_ reborn precisely the same way - the same names, the same faces, the same relationships. It's as if yours and Lysandre's identities are as immortal as Xerneas and Yveltal, as if there's some sort of connection that goes deeper than any of us understand."

He had found himself staring at the stony floor, his blushing faded by now. "I was named after my great-grandfather," he said softly, "He died a few years before I was born. I found an old picture and - I guess we'd be nearly identical. Are you saying that he was..." He waved a hand. "He had this sort of bond with Xerneas as well? And that he loved a Lysandre, too? And that - we have the same soul, that he was reborn as me?"

It was a deeply troubling thought, the idea that his life was not his own, that it had been laid out by another. And here was another thought - had he fallen for Lysandre at first sight because they were two people who happened to form a connection, or had it been destined from the start? Had he ever had any choice in it, at all?

And, also, there was the disturbing thought that if his great-grandfather had known and loved a Lysandre as well, it clearly had not lasted, given the existence of, well, his grandfather.

"That's about it," Diancie confirmed quietly. "I'm sorry, Augustine, this must be a shock - and we still don't understand why your connection with Lysandre is so strong. If Cresselia was here, she could make you dream and find out..." Sighing, she shook her head. "Xerneas is immortal, and I think you are too, Augustine. Have something to eat and go to sleep - you may learn something of it."

He smiled uncertainly, but nodded, pulling a granola bar and an apple out of his bag. "Okay. Um - where should I sleep?"

"Just around there," she said with a gesture back to a rocky curve. "On the other side are my stores, you can find blankets there. Take as many as you want, you can sleep anywhere you want."

Slowly, he nodded, ripping open the packaging on the granola bar. If he was to see his destiny tonight, he would might as well be comfortable.

* * *

"Lysandre!"

The world was ending.

"Lysandre, _please_!"

The world was ending, and he was in pain, arms wrapped around his chest, blinking smoke out of his eyes as Geosenge burned around him. He coughed, choking on smoke and dust, and found his hand splattered with blood; tried to draw air, found it almost impossible to do so. There was a stabbing pain in his chest - when the Pokemon Centre had collapsed, had the falling rubble broken ribs?

If that was the case, then the fact that he was coughing up blood was probably not a good sign.

Light-headed, he found himself stumbling towards where the standing stones stood no longer, shattered glass (shattered crystal?) covering the ground in lethal shards. "_Lysandre!_" he screamed again, finding his voice raspy and suffocated, another fresh bout of coughing almost sending him to his knees, the pain in his chest doubling.

Oh, Arceus, he couldn't breathe. He was going to suffocate or drown in his own blood, he had not been able to stop Lysandre from activating the weapon and now he was going to die, but he had to get to him, he had to find him first...

There was an entrance, blasted open, near the old standing stones. Collapsing against the side of the elevator, he closed his eyes, willing himself to keep breathing, to fight the rising panic that the lack of air was inducing, the dizziness as he forced himself to move.

Most of the Flare members were dead, draped over their workstations or limp on the floor. Part of the roof here had caved in, and some had been crushed, more doubtlessly under the rubble. A few stirred feebly, and one, as if guessing his intent, pointed in the direction of a door.

He stumbled onwards, his fingers leaving a trail of red on the pristine walls.

It didn't matter now - didn't matter what happened to him, what his inevitable fate was, and his speciality might have been in Pokemon biology but he still knew enough about the body to know what was going to happen to him, to know that his lungs had been torn open by the shards of his broken ribs, to know how he was going to suffocate, and a fresh bout of coughing sent him staggering against the nearest wall before he could push himself upwards, push himself on, wiping blood off his face with his torn labcoat sleeve and leaving it streaked red and damp.

He had to get to Lysandre. On this, everything depended.

The great chamber was mostly empty, save for the machine itself. The weapon had collapsed upon it, bringing most of the roof with it - Augustine stumbled towards it, coughing, and found himself looking up at the sky.

"Lysand-" he called again, only able to force out the first two syllables through his heaving lungs. "Lys- Lysandre?"

There was a thin groan of pain, and his head snapped up - amidst the grey was a splash of black and red, and above it...

Augustine glanced up once at Yveltal, perched on a mount of rubble like the king of the mountain, forced his reluctant feet onwards, and found himself dropping to a heap at Lysandre's feet.

"Augustine," came the pained whisper, and dust showered down on him as Lysandre moved, practically sliding down the rubble to collapse at his side. Blearily, Augustine turned his gaze on him, and found his eyes glazed over in pain, his hair matted with blood on one side, the neatly tailored suit shiny with more, so much, too much, and reached out for him despite it. "You came."

"You're dying," he whispered in return, both words a painful effort, and felt Lysandre's hand brush his cheek.

"So are you."

"I love you."

"I know. I love you too. I'm sorry."

He did not know how much time had passed, clinging to Lysandre, struggling to breathe through Lysandre's gentle encouragement, choking on his blood. There were tears on his face, he could feel them, but they were silent - he was barely able to keep breathing enough without adding sobbing to the mix.

"Why?" he whispered once, any further words cut off by more coughing, his fingers flecked with red.

Lysandre laughed, a broken and dreadful sound. "I don't know."

When the sound of hooves clicked against concrete, he could no longer bring himself to be surprised at the sight of the blue deer, its horns soft gold but blazing with colour. "Xerneas," he found himself whispering, stretching one trembling hand towards it - gently, it allowed the contact, and he shuddered at the pure power he could feel beneath the velvet fur.

Oh Arceus, his head hurt. Dropping his tingling fingers, he drew his arm with deliberate intent back over Lysandre's shoulders, curling himself around him and feeling a slow, heavy arm wrap around his waist in return. "Please," he told the Life Pokemon brokenly, his vision blurry with tears. "Please - I want another - chance - this can't - end like this..."

He couldn't breathe, could feel his racing heartbeat beginning to slow, the world turning faded and grey and out of focus, could see that his fingertips were going blue. And it hurt, he had not realised how much dying hurt, could think of nothing other than making this right but unable to find a way to do this, only knowing that he had to turn to Xerneas, had to find life with the Life Pokemon.

No matter what it took.

Lysandre's arm slipped down heavily, drawing in a rattling breath and then out again and nothing more.

And Yveltal moved, its great wings stirring up the dust as rose into the air and then settled beside them, one large talon curling around Lysandre's shoulder. _This will happen again,_ it said, and the voice of an avatar of Destruction was almost as physically painful as dying was.

And Xerneas moved, the soft sound of hooves on the floor clicking as it approached, lowering its head to nuzzle Augustine's hair.

It said, softly, _No._

And the world faded from sight.

* * *

He awakened in tears, heart racing and Lysandre's name on his lips, reaching for someone no longer there.

And he could not understand it, did not know what a Pokemon Centre was or what Pokemon were or what Team Flare was or what Lysandre had tried to do, did not comprehend the finer details, save for this: once, in another life, Lysandre and Yveltal (in the form of an immense bird) had destroyed the world. He had struggled through fatal injuries to find him and had found him dying, had watched as Lysandre had died in his arms before succumbing himself, had used his last breath to beg Xerneas for a second chance, for a chance to put this right.

And then all of this was his doing. All of it, the endless cycles, the suffering, the lives he could now remember as easily as recalling what he had done yesterday, an eternal struggle of death and rebirth and fighting again and again to end it, Yveltal claiming Lysandre to force his hand in finishing what he had started, Xerneas choosing him to be his polar opposite and yet his other half, dying at Lysandre's, at Yveltal's hands, Lysandre dying at his, at Xerneas', hands, no end in sight, no hope, no peace.

All of it was down to a desperate plea to have the chance to do it over, made lifetimes ago as he laid dying in his lover's arms.

He could feel himself suffocating now, suffocating all over again, and he gasped through his tears, fingers curling into the blankets as he struggled to draw breath, the awful panic of not being able to breathe, of asphyxiation, overwhelming him here and now. There was a flurry of movement, and Diancie was beside him again, carefully guiding him to lean forward and breathe in deeply, to calm his hyperventilation, her voice soft and soothing as she reassured him - "It's in the past, it can't hurt you any more, you're fine, you're fine. Just breathe, you're only panicking, you're fine..."

He drew his breath in sharply and almost immediately coughed it out again, drew it in and tried to hold it long enough to do anything, forced himself to try to take slower breaths despite what his lungs were trying to do, shaking from the lack of air and from the metal burns flaring against his skin. And it was hard and it hurt, fighting the memory of very literally suffocating to death, a true memory and not just a panicked imagining.

But, slowly, he was managing it.

"It's my fault," he forced through his broken sobbing as soon as he could find the words again. "All of it, it's my fault, Lysandre did something awful and I couldn't stop him and - and I think Yveltal claimed him then, to try to force his hand to do it again and to do it properly, and I asked Xerneas - I begged it - with my last breath, I begged for a second chance. All of this, this is my fault." And he dropped his head against his arms and wept for every lost life, every lost opportunity, every lost moment between Lysandre and himself.

For a long time, he drifted, lost in his misery and in memory, of failures replayed over and over again, allowing the horror and trauma to soak through his skin and become the reality he had no choice but to face. And then he lifted his head, wiped his soaked face with his sleeves, and drew in a steadying breath, glancing over at the woman beside him.

"Thanks, Diantha," he murmured, barely even noticing the human name instead of the Legendary one. "It's... kind of traumatic remembering how you died, no?" The smile he gave her was feeble at best, and he dropped it immediately.

"It would be," she said with a crooked smile in return, nudging his shoulder. "What are you going to do?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. "Well, first I'm going to wash up, because I feel like a wrung-out sponge," he said with a weak smile and a nod towards one of the clean, clear pools in the cave. "And then I'm going to find Lysandre. I'm going to do what I asked to do all those lifetimes ago, and I'm going to set it right."

Diantha pulled him into a fierce hug, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Good luck," she whispered, and drew back with a smile. "Good luck, and may you succeed, for all of our sakes."


	16. Serious

**Chapter 16 - Serious**

The mood in the safe house that morning was sombre.

Their numbers had been diminished, fates currently unknown - Shauna had not contacted them since her first message, and Serena (and sometimes Iris) had been pacing almost since the meeting the day before. And with Professor Sycamore's departure, there was definite tension in the air as the two groups prepared to set out - Professor Juniper had started muttering to herself, and N was fairly certain that that was a sign either of mental illness, high levels of creativity, or stress and anxiety (and logic dictated that it was more likely to be stress and anxiety at this point).

Not that he was particularly free of it himself. N was wringing his hands a lot, twisting his fingers, rocking whenever he found himself sitting down, nervous energy being released through his skin and bones. Hilda and Hilbert, never far away, cast him concerned glances; they were dressed almost identically in concealing, easy-to-move-in black and white, Hilda twisting at the pink-edged wristbands she wore, Hilbert tugging at his hat. He caught N's eye and gave him a smile, N smiled back automatically.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, moving to sit beside him and bumping his leg reassuringly against N's - they had worked out, all three of them, that physical contact (if he was expecting it) helped to ground him, and so Hilbert and Hilda had put effort into touching him as much as possible over the past couple of days.

Wordlessly, N shook his head, not really able to articulate just how he was feeling - why his mouth felt like cotton, why his hands were shaking as he twisted them, why it felt like there was a heavy weight in his stomach. He knew part of the reason why - he was afraid to see his father again - but no words made it past his lips.

His father. He loved his father, but his father was... not a good person, he had begun to realise. They had talked, he and Hilda and Hilbert, and they had forced him to look at things logically, and he had started to realise that the anger (justifiable, he had thought) and obsession (understandable, he had believed) and ambition (normal, he had considered) added up to a formula that did not equal anything good. There was, he knew, the possibility that his father would come out of the fight badly - there was the possibility that he could be killed.

And then what would happen to him? He had been sent to the safe house to help his father, what would happen to him if his father died? Would he stay with them? Would he have to pick up his mantle and take on his goal to destroy the government? There were not enough answers and too many questions, and he found Hilbert's hand and squeezed it hard.

Hilbert squeezed back with no further questions, Hilda joining them on his other side and taking his other hand.

"N," she whispered, "Whatever happens, we'll help you, okay? You don't..." She swallowed hard. "Whatever he told you, you don't have to listen to him, okay?"

He let out a wordless affirmative murmur, and closed his eyes.

Time was drawing short.

* * *

They had travelled by train, carefully faked identification for all of them save Nate, who had never been under suspicion, and N, whose identification was technically government-issued and marked him as as Normal as Normal could be. They were, allegedly, a school group (although a school group who apparently had a few students held back, given that Rosa and Hugh were already eighteen and he had just turned nineteen, himself), travelling north to visit the Giant Chasm, a local geological feature whose cause of formation had long since been forgotten.

They would, in fact, go to the chasm. They would then move on to exploring the cave systems in the local area, a long network dotted with rivers and mountains, following a path that had been named Victory Road in older times and the reason for which long since forgotten. And then they would climb up to the ruined castle, to the old temple, and see what was to be seen there.

The fact that they found themselves, ultimately, surrounded, should not have been a surprise.

There were three of them, white-haired and dressed in black, the muscles of their bare arms contrasting with the heavy black pants and boots they wore. N glanced at them warily - there was recognition there, but certainly not the kind that would be of any comfort - he had seen them a handful of times over the past few years, and always in the company of his father.

He turned to Hilda and Hilbert, ducking his head to murmur in Hilda's ear, "I know them, I think they work for my father." She nodded and passed the message on to Hilbert, and, almost unconsciously, they flanked him again.

But the trio had not yet moved.

"Steel," Rosa murmured softly, "Or part Steel, at any rate. I think there's something else, but I'm not sure what." Turning to one of them, she called out more loudly, "Okay, what do you want?"

The trio exchanged glances. "You are trespassing," one said, their gaze fixed on N. "Why have you come here?"

Hilbert nudged him gently, and N drew in a shaken breath. "We've come to see my father," he said uncertainly. "Is - is he here?"

Another set of exchanged glances, and one raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You have brought others."

"They're my friends."

He voice was trembling, his palms itching and sweating and clammy.

"We will take you to him," one of them decided, and suddenly they were simply _elsewhere_. A startled outbreak of murmurs came from the group, confused noises as they looked around at where they were - they were standing in an old, shattered ruin, open to the sky, a very long set of stairs stretching down into the mist. Above them was a chair, and on the chair was his father.

N felt his heart start beating faster, his breathing unsteady at the sudden rush of anxiety and - yes, he could acknowledge it now - fear.

"And what time do you call this, boy?" Ghetsis drawled, his voice thick with sarcasm. "You weak, disobedient boy. How dare you defy me? Get over here."

N hunched his shoulders, cringing at the scrape of harsh words like nails down a chalkboard, almost twitching in his automatic, instinctive response to that last command, to those three words. Silently, he shook his head, dropping his gaze and reaching for Hilda and Hilbert's hands - they held on reassuringly, and the sudden horrid thought that he had just drawn his father's attention to a pair of Ghost types was almost enough to make him let go again.

Almost.

"No? You won't come to me?" Ghetsis said with deceptive gentleness, then curled his lip up in a sneer. "You disappoint me, brat."

N did not respond, focusing on the pressure of Hilda and Hilbert's hands, the welcoming warmth of fire in Hilda's veins, the calming cool of water beneath Hilbert's skin.

"And where are the Fairies?" Ghetsis continued suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the group. "The frightened little girl and the foolish man? Or did you believe yourself invulnerable even without them?" He spread his arms widely, mockingly. "What have you with you to defend yourselves from one of the mightiest of the Great Dragons? Answer me!"

"There's me," Rosa almost snarled, blue light flickering around her clenched fists. "If you touch any of them, I'll kick your ass."

"There's all of us!" Iris shouted, although she was keeping a close eye on Ghetsis, not wanting to take a potentially lethal attack from him. "We're more than enough to take you down, you - you despot!"

He simply laughed in something resembling genuine amusement. "A despot," he repeated with a sneering laugh, "Of course. Has it not occurred to you that our goals are identical? That we both wish to take down an unjust government? Of course, it's only the technicalities that remain - Reshiram and Zekrom, those _mighty beings_, are leaders in name only. And once I kill them and claim their position, claim my name again, then I _will_ be the one to lead Unova, and then the world, myself!"

"He's fucking insane," Hilda muttered to N, and he couldn't really bring himself to disagree.

Nate stepped forward hesitantly, glancing back at Hugh once. "Where are Reshiram and Zekrom, then?" he asked cautiously, "If they're not actually... leading anything?"

Ghetsis waved an arm impatiently. "Somewhere in the bowels of this building. It is irrelevant! I will subdue you first, and then use _all_ of you to kill them. You will submit yourself to me!"

There was a faint nudge against his back; Iris had poked him. "Something about this place seems familiar," she whispered. "I think I can find them, but I'll need your help. Even if they're not actual rulers, they can still fight - come with me!"

He glanced down at her, glanced back up at Ghetsis, now ranting in Nate's general direction, glanced between Hilda and Hilbert. They nodded once, releasing his hands, and Hilbert whispered an almost silent, "Good luck."

He took Iris's hand and allowed her to lead him towards the stairs, both watching for Ghetsis' attention carefully - and then they turned, and they ran.


	17. Gentle

**Chapter 17 - Gentle**

If Serena had been asked a year ago what she was going to be doing as the mid-morning sun rose above Unova one sunny spring Saturday, 'climbing up a cliff to clamber through the windows of a genocidal and broken avatar of Destruction' probably was not going to be it.

They had departed early, Professor Sycamore still not back from finding the other legendary but with little other choice. With the group to confront Ghetsis left at the train station in town, they had set off to drive through the forest and to the coast, where a boat would be waiting. And from there, they would be on the water - skirting carefully around bustling Castelia, up the river that divided the western peninsula from the mainland, drawing to a halt at the cliffs that edged this part of the desert.

Now, climbing up a rock face that was somewhere between a cliff and a mountain path, sand under her fingernails and Not Looking Down with grim determination, hoping and praying that her dreams of a dark shadow creeping over the land and suffocating everything beneath it would not come true, Serena told herself she was doing this for Shauna and stretched her arm up to reach for the next handhold.

"Are you alright?" Calem murmured as he drew nearer, nudging her hand to find the next place to grip. "You, uh - don't really look happy."

Serena grimaced, letting herself cling there for a moment, letting the slope of the rock she had found herself support her for now. "Nothing about this is right," she whispered back. "None of it. Ever since the raid, everything has gone wrong, and my dreams aren't telling me anything useful, and -"

Catching Tierno and Trevor's eyes, Calem waved a hand, gesturing for them to rest for the moment. Tierno helped Trevor scramble up to the next ledge, then flopped back against the cliff face gratefully.

"You're worried about Shauna, aren't you?" he said softly, glancing up at where he knew the windows were, invisible from this angle. "Do you think this guy's done anything to her?"

"If he has, avatar of destruction or not, I'll kill him." She shook her head helplessly, letting her head rest against her arm. "I'm - nervous. I know Shauna says that he's a good person and he's just kind of broken, but I think she sees the good in everyone. She might not have seen the bad. On the other hand, I guess if anyone was going to redeem him, it'd be her..."

To her surprise, he laughed. "So have you told her that you have a crush on her?" he whispered with a grin, and she angled a leg out to try to kick him. "Hey, not while we're on a cliff! Anyway, I think she likes you too, I've seen her blushing around you a bit."

She stared at him for a moment, any potential response to that getting distracted and wandering off somewhere en route between her brain and her mouth. "...I'm going to go rescue her," she murmured fiercely, and started scaling the wall again.

One hand over the next, climbing higher and further for her, just for her.

Still, it was somewhat of a surprise when one of the windows above swung open, Shauna herself poking her head out and waving with an embarrassed grin. "Hi, Serena," she said sheepishly, "Um... you know, it probably would have been easier to go through the tunnels, you know that, right?"

Clinging to the rock, Serena stared, then let out a shaky laugh. "I - guess it would have been," she said with a grunt of exertion as she grabbed a hold of the windowsill. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine - oh!" And she stepped back, just in time for a set of larger hands to wrap around Serena's wrists and haul her bodily upwards.

Serena let her breath out in a hiss, yanking her hands back as soon as her feet were on solid ground. But Yveltal, for it surely had to be Yveltal who had just pulled her up, only gave her a nod in acknowledgement before turning to the other windows, giving the boys a hand up as well. Massaging her wrists, she turned to him, frowning.

"Um," she started cautiously, glancing at the avatar of destruction and now generally helpful person. "Uh, thanks. For. Helping us." For helping us break in to your home, she thought somewhat giddily, moving subtly closer to Shauna.

"You wouldn't have got very far with the windows closed," he noted with some wry amusement, "And the rock can be slippery."

"Yeah," she muttered to her feet, feeling almost cast adrift from the rest of the world, like there was a subtle magnetic pull between herself and Yveltal alone. Was this what Shauna had meant, with the connection between someone of that type and a true Legendary? Glancing at Tierno, her fellow Dark type, she found him staring as well.

Clearing her thought awkwardly, Shauna stepped between the two groups, Yveltal on one side and Serena, Calem, Tierno, and Trevor on the other. "So, uh, I guess I should do introductions, huh?" she said with a little laugh. "Guys, this is Lysandre. Um, I guess he's also Yveltal, but Lysandre is nicer, isn't it?" She smiled crookedly. "And Lysandre, these are Trevor, Tierno, Calem, and Serena."

There was a curious light and gentleness in her green eyes as she said Serena's name, and Serena felt an answering tingle of warmth. Yveltal, or Lysandre, certainly seemed amused. "Oh yes, you've mentioned _Serena_," he said lightly.

To Serena's frank astonishment, Shauna elbowed him, her face flushing pink, and Serena found herself torn between wondering at her reaction and fighting down the urge to yell in alarm at Shauna elbowing an avatar of destruction.

Even if he had helped them up through the windows.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, torn between pulling Shauna away from Lysandre and from staying well away. "So, um..."

Lysandre made the choice for them, turning and moving to the kitchen. "Would you like drinks?" he asked the group at large, "I assume we will have much to discuss."

Serena shook her head automatically, unwilling to eat or drink anything he had prepared - although Shauna had probably been eating his food, if she had been there for a day and a half already. "You mean, about the fact that you're planning on destroying the world?" she said coolly, and his hand paused in the process of removing glasses from a cabinet.

"Indeed," he said back, equally as frosty, before turning to the boys. "And what about you three? I assume you still have tongues of your own."

They muttered something in the negative, Calem drawing a little closer to her protectively.

"Well, I'd like some more lemonade!" Shauna called out, hurrying to the kitchen to collect her glass. The tips of her fingers brushed Lysandre's sleeve as she whispered something inaudible; Serena watched, her heart in her mouth.

Shauna liked everyone, and if Lysandre's ease around her really was genuine, everyone seemed to like her. But how could she befriend someone like him? Someone who threatened to kill all of them, including Shauna herself? It didn't make sense to her, she could not understand why Shauna was treating him as a friend and not someone to be feared.

Fingers wrapped around her glass of lemonade, Shauna joined her at her side again, offering her a quick smile. "Thanks for coming," she said softly.

She gave her an awkward smile back, ducking her head a little closer. "Is he still a threat? I mean, he acts friendly, but you said he's planning on killing us!"

Shauna let out a sigh, her breath warm against Serena's cheek. "Yes," she admitted, "But not because of like... hating us or anything. There's this cycle, he said, and it keeps continuing and people keep suffering. He's done this before, in like, you know, other lives, and every time people have survived and it's kept going. He wants to make sure he does it right so the cycle ends."

Frowning deeply, she whispered back, "And you're _okay_ with this?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed softly, looking aghast at the very idea. "He's nice, but he's really, really broken and we have to convince him to stop, and I don't know how." Clenched around the glass, her hand trembled a little. "We - I think we need Professor Sycamore. He didn't come with you?"

"He left yesterday," she reluctantly admitted, "He went to see some other Fairy legendary."

Shauna nodded distractedly, biting her lip before calling out, "Lysandre?" The man glanced up from the coffee he had got for himself, looking quizzical. "Serena said he went to see Diancie last night."

Serena turned to her sharply, the sudden horrific thought that maybe Shauna was a traitor too crossing her mind. "What did you tell him that for?" she asked her furiously, her voice raising to at least a normal volume in her shock. "I thought he was going there to learn how to kick Yveltal's ass!"

Comprehension dawned in Shauna's eyes, then. "Oh," she breathed, "You don't know yet..."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Don't know what?" she asked plaintively, "You said from the start that Xerneas was really powerful! Do you mean he's not going to beat him?"

"Not if I can help it," came a new voice from a door she hadn't spotted earlier, and Lysandre's coffee mug shattered against the ground.

Professor Sycamore looked exhausted and drained, deep shadows under his eyes and leaning against the door frame as if he needed it to stay upright. His clothes looked rumpled, and his hair, honestly, looked as if it needed a comb.

But the expression on his face was amazement and fear, uncertainty warring with relief. And with a growing smile, joy won out and he flung himself into Lysandre's waiting arms with such enthusiasm that he lifted himself off his feet, Lysandre clinging back as if he was afraid of what would happen if he let him go.

Beside her, Shauna let out a squeak of delight, turning away with a grin only to find Serena looking, she was assuming, utterly confused. She certainly felt confused - she was fairly certain that mortal enemies didn't great each other with enthusiastic hugs and -

Well. Now she definitely was turning away awkwardly, glancing at Calem, Tierno, and Trevor and finding them looking about as embarrassed as she felt to see their teacher and mentor enthusiastically kissing the man who was threatening to destroy the entire world.

"I assume this is what I didn't know yet?" she murmured to Shauna.

"Uh huh. They were together for like seven years before Lysandre got kidnapped and I think it's been... like, nine, now? Since they last saw each other, I mean." She bounced a little on the balls of her feet, unable to keep the grin of her face, her eyes bright with compassion and happiness, and Serena took a deep breath and reached out to hold her hand, her face burning.

Shauna stopped bouncing very quickly, her eyes wide and a flush of her own crawling across her cheeks, and then a gentle smile crossed her face again as she drew closer to Serena's side.

From one side, Calem gave them a thumbs up, then turned back as Professor Sycamore and Lysandre finally drew apart.

"Are you alright?" Lysandre murmured as he brushed a thumb over the bandages visible beneath the collar of the Professor's shirt, and his eyes darkened. "Who hurt you?"

"A Dragon," Professor Sycamore said softly. "He hurt Serena, he tried to kill one of the children - she's a little Dragon herself - I stepped in to protect her, I didn't know why the attack didn't hurt me... but he did. He used a Steel attack."

Lysandre growled softly, and Serena drew in her breath - around him, she could see a dark flicker of light, feel a surge of strength and power fill her limbs. The Professor had stepped back by now, his face pale and his eyes wide and his pupils changing to the strange X shapes that Shauna had mentioned she had seen before, and beside her, Shauna gasped slightly.

"No," Professor Sycamore said, very softly, but with a power behind it that almost made Serena tremble. "Not like this. Not again."

"Xerneas," Shauna whispered, her hand tightening on Serena's spasmodically.

"And Yveltal," Serena confirmed shakily, because she could sense the raw power coming from Lysandre with more than just the five human senses - this was some deeper instinct, some resonance with her Dark typing, and she spared a glance towards Tierno to find him pallid and clinging to Trevor.

Lysandre, or Yveltal, since she honestly wasn't sure who it was at this point, let out a sound almost liked a choked sob. "What do I do?" he asked the Professor desperately, "This cycle will never end, and we will never stop suffering! The children will never stop suffering. I will never stop suffering, and you -" His words cut off abruptly; he had dropped to his knees, had buried his face in his hands. "Tell me why. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't try to end this endless rebirth and ease all of our suffering. Please, Augustine. I don't know what to do."

With a sigh, Professor Sycamore - for she was fairly certain that something in him had shifted, that his eyes were more human again - lowered himself to the floor beside Lysandre, reaching for his hands. "Because some hope is better than none," he said simply. "Because you've tried to do this before, and you don't remember, but the cycle has always continued. Because too many of our lives and the lives of everyone around us have ended in bloodshed. Because - don't you see?" He laughed exhaustedly, his eyes wet. "We were at the epicentre. We were there when this cycle began, because I begged Xerneas to find a way to stop the destruction that Yveltal wanted from you. And because of that, we're the ones who have to find a way to end the conflict between us." Gently, with all the tenderness of years apart, he pressed a kiss to Lysandre's temple.

Lysandre did not raise his head, his hands trembling in the Professor's. "I could kill everyone here now," he whispered, pulling one shaking hand away to rake apprehensively through his hair. "With a thought. I can feel it in my blood. Yveltal will not let me rest until I do. We will not suffer any more if we will never be reborn again."

The Professor shook his head. "We are so old now, Lysandre. All of this destruction, it's become second nature," he continued quietly, running the thumbs over the backs of Lysandre's hand, squeezing it gently. "But I know _you_. I knew you before and I know you now. Lysandre, you are not a bad person, and even Yveltal doesn't hate the way it used to. We need to work together. We need to change things for the better, not for worse. Please," he added, the calm mask slipping somewhat.

_Please,_ Serena begged silently, terror bright and hot and acutely painful in her chest, shaking from the knowledge that Lysandre could lose it at any second and kill them in an instant, squeezing Shauna's hand so tightly she was sure she was cutting off circulation to her fingers. _Please don't do this. Please._

Lysandre bowed his head, drew in a shaken breath, and the tangible power faded from the air - nearby, Tierno slumped a little, and Shauna looked a little less bright as the Professor suddenly seemed rather more diminished.

"What do we do now?" Lysandre said quietly.

Professor Sycamore managed an uncertain smile, leaning in to kiss him again, getting to his feet and holding out a hand for Lysandre to take. "Now," he said quietly, "We find a way to end the cycle and find a way to be happy. If you will accept it, that is."

Lysandre took his hand.


	18. Rash

**Chapter 18 - Rash**

The fight was not going well.

Ghetsis, much to Rosa's dismay, was a skilled and powerful fighter, with quicker reflexes than any of them and able to hit out devastatingly. Perhaps the only reason they were still alive was that he still needed them - otherwise, she doubted they would be still standing.

He was toying with them, and gaining some kind of sadistic glee from showing his absolute dominance, and it would only be a matter of time before he would gain the advantage. They were all starting to tire - Nate could make the ground erupt beneath his feet and all it would do would make Ghetsis stumble, Hugh and Hilbert would co-ordinate to send immense waves of water (with Hilda well out of the way) towards him and he would simply end up soggy, Hilda's flames licked and burnt at him, Rosa herself would aim kicks and punches when she was close enough and the strange blue balls of aura energy when she was not.

It was... strange, this way of fighting. It was strange fighting, period - she had always been active, had always had a streak of combat within her - she had been the one to pick fights with kids twice her size when she had been little, and it had been Hugh who had had to calm her down (often unsuccessfully, given his temper and anger at times - she, at least, had fought for the thrill of it). She had fought in the playground as a child, had moved on to formal martial arts (and the discipline that came with it, now much less likely to start a fight for fun) as a teenager, and, as an adult, had apparently had no issue with joining the army (up to the point that they drugged and tried to brainwash her), and even the training session she had woken up in had felt right.

(Her memories, at least, were largely returned. Still, most of her time in the army was a great big blank spot, and she could only assume that she hadn't actually formed any memories in that time.)

But this? Fighting against Ghetsis with just a handful of others at her side? This was something new and terrifying. Never before had she had to fight for her life, fight for freedom, fight to stop a potential tyrant from taking over an admittedly horrible government that they _also_ needed to defeat.

Because the stakes were a lot more serious than just winning a playground fight, or striving to get a black belt, or completing a training exercise.

The choices, as far as she could see, were four.

They could do nothing, and wait to see if Ghetsis defeated the Dragons or if the Dragons defeated Ghetsis. This was not an option in her mind, not even remotely - doing nothing meant that psychic manipulation and drugging and imprisonment and torture and state-sanctioned murder would continue unabated. They could not simply sit back and do nothing - something had to change.

They could defeat Ghetsis, stop him from taking over properly, stop someone who was clearly aggressive and violent from gaining power, and maintain the status quo. This was, like the first option, unacceptable - nothing would change.

They could help Ghetsis defeat the Dragons and let him rule. And here was an almost plausible option, as they did not know of his policies, of his philosophies - all they knew was that he was violent and power-hungry and almost certainly a terrible father, if N's visible terror around him was any indication. But if they did, they could potentially let loose a greater threat than had ever been seen before - no, this was not an option either. Things could change - and they could change for the worse.

And then there was the fourth option, to do the impossible, to defeat Ghetsis at his plans and then to take on the government. And she didn't know if they could succeed, how long the battle would last - taking down an entire structure of government was somewhat of a bigger deal than beating a single tyrant into submission, and it would be a long, involved, and difficult fight.

But things would change.

Things would change, and hopefully for the better.

And there was, of course, Yveltal to consider, a ticking time bomb who had threatened to destroy every living being on Earth. And if he made good on his threat - well, they certainly wouldn't have to worry about the structure of the government if they were all dead, would they?

Still, the other group would have arrived that morning, and Professor Sycamore potentially could have got there even earlier. The fact that the world had not, in fact, ended was probably a good sign, and she could acutely remember how torn the Professor had sounded talking about his former lover. For his sake _and_ for the sake of the world, oh, she really, sincerely hoped that Yveltal was not a threat.

"Hey!" Hilda hissed urgently as she darted close, and Rosa turned her attention back to the bottle, cringing as Dragon magic barely missed giving Nate a (probably much needed, admittedly) new haircut. "I think he's been lying about something."

"About what?" she frowned, hurling another blob of aura energy and dodging hard as it drew his attention. "His goals or something?"

The taller girl shook her head, narrowed her eyes, and sent a stream of fire straight for him. This did, in fact, elicit a yell of pain and anger, his clothes smouldering as he frantically patted them off, his skin reddened beneath it.

"His type!" she managed instead as the fire extinguished. "Look, fire shouldn't hurt him that bad, but it does. Hilbert knows an ice move, should have worked really well, it didn't. Do you know any actual steel attacks?"

She shook her head and skittered out of the way of another blow, wishing she had at least tied her hair more securely back _before_ starting a battle. "Never tried it," she panted, "I can try - can you cover for me?"

A fierce grin crossed Hilda's face. "You got it," she said grimly, and darted back into the fray again.

And Rosa went still, trusting in Hilda to protect her, eyes half closed as she focused on the feeling of metal in her blood and in her bones. There was metal, too, surrounding them - she could feel the steel beams that supported the room, reinforcing the crumbling stone. There was - and here she frowned - a doorway, hidden behind them, the mechanisms old and rusted but the space still existing.

There was also a beam hanging precariously over them.

She glanced up at it thoughtfully, then smiled, and brought it down very quickly on Ghetsis' head.

"Well," Hilda said as she straightened up from where she had leaped away from the beam herself, "That was effective."

Rosa gave her a strained smile, edging away from the unconscious Dragon. "Did that tell you what you wanted to know?" she asked curiously, and Hilda nodded once.

"Yeah. Fire works okay. Ice doesn't do as much as it should. Steel worked, um, _really_ well, and Fighting would work whether he was Dark or whether he was what I was thinking," she concluded, staring hard at the man. "He's not Dark. He's an Ice Dragon."

Nate swapped a glance with Hugh as all three boys approached, Hilbert slipping easily into place beside his twin. "What does that mean?" Nate asked cautiously, "If he's an Ice Dragon?"

"Well, it means he was lying about why he was locked away." Hilbert was frowning, glancing forebodingly at Hilda. "And he was lying to N, too, because N really sincerely believed that he was Dark - that was why he didn't want us and Rosa near him during that first encounter, he didn't want him to hurt us or for Rosa to hurt him. But he really was locked away, so... if Ice types are okay, and the Dragons get this whole other class, then why was he locked away?"

"Because," came a new voice from the direction of the stairs, ancient and young at the same time, a blonde woman in black emerging into view with N close behind her, "He is and always has posed a threat to anyone around him."

Five pairs of eyes swivelled towards the pair, and to the older man, white-haired and with a dramatic white beard, clothed in white and grey, led by the hand by a wide-eyed Iris. "Reshiram and Zekrom, right?" Rosa asked uncertainly. "Uh, you, uh, run the government?"

"Allegedly," the man said dryly. "We are... figureheads only. We have no real power. And yes - I am Reshiram, and this is - in this life - my younger sister, Zekrom."

Zekrom smiled uneasily, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. "And that unfortunate wretch over there," she added quietly with a gesture towards Ghetsis, "Is the middle child. Our brother. Kyurem."

Hilbert glanced over his shoulder at Ghetsis, then back at Zekrom and Reshiram, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "He's a Legendary," he breathed, "That's why he's so strong?"

"Correct," Reshiram confirmed, then sighed, shaking his head. "He slipped out of our control some months past - we believe he manipulated his son -" Here, he gave N a respectful nod - "Into helping him escape."

N hung his head, silent for once, and Hilbert bit down on his lip before striding purposefully to his side and taking his hand. "It's not your fault," Hilbert told him directly, and N raised his gaze uncertainly. "Okay? It's not your fault, he's an abusive asshole and you've been wronged by him."

Zekrom set a hand on his shoulder briefly, giving him the faintest of smiles. "Go with your friends, nephew," she urged gently, "Your ideals will still give me strength."

There was quite possibly the most awkward silence that Rosa could recall in her entire life, which, admittedly, still had a few holes in it. And then she shook her head, finally putting her question to words, the question that had been on her lips ever since she had woken up.

"Why?" she asked quietly, and the Dragons turned their attention towards her. "Why is the world in such a terrible shape? Why are people forcefully drafted and why are people drugged and brainwashed and why were we arrested for sedition just for talking and why were we interrogated for a month without ever getting a trial and why are there experiments on kids and why are people branded as Deviants?"

Reshiram shook his head. "Because we were weak," he admitted. "Because we were incomplete without people to show us their ideals and to show us the truth. We cannot change the past, but we can change things now, slowly as it may be."

"Or," came a hiss from behind them, and Ghetsis - Kyurem - was pushing himself to his feet, ice beginning to be etched over his greying skin. "Or, we can change the world now. _Come here_."

Yellow flickered in Reshiram and Zekrom's eyes; as if under a hypnotic trance, they moved slowly to their brother's side. "No," whispered Iris, tugging at Reshiram's hand; he slipped free easily, and Iris ran to Rosa's side instead.

Dangling from Ghetsis' fingers was a thin, pointed pyramid on a cord, one he now took hold of. "I've been learning," he said unsteadily as Reshiram and Zekrom silently held a hand out each, "Secret techniques, the story of absofusion - a way to become second only to the gods in strength. And once I achieve it, I will surpass them, too! Goodbye, my _dearest_ siblings, I thank you greatly for helping me achieve the ultimate power!"

The jagged end of the device slashed across the Dragons' palm, and light, blindingly white, spilled out from the sudden wounds. And then it was growing and growing, and Rosa shielded her eyes, felt Iris bury her face against her shoulder, the air forced from her lungs.

The light faded.

Reshiram and Zekrom were gone.

Ghetsis smiled.


	19. Brave

**Chapter warnings:** violence, blood.

* * *

**Chapter 19 - Brave**

Lysandre was worried.

This was not an unusual state for him - worry and fear had been a constant companion for a very long time, and the nausea and hair-trigger temper that came with it were as familiar as his face in the mirror. But the cause was something new, this time around - never before had he fought to preserve the world, to save others.

Without looking, he found Augustine's hand and squeezed, and felt an answering squeeze back.

"I used to dream of you," he admitted quietly as they made their way up the mountain path, feeling Augustine's gaze on him. "Almost every night I was in that place. Most of the time, they were... good dreams. Happy memories. The years we shared together."

"Seven years," Augustine confirmed softly, a gentle smile touching his lips. "I dreamed of you too, that you had come back - I used to wake up half expecting you to be making coffee."

A chuckle escaped Lysandre's lips. "Black with three sugars," he teased gently, "Once again living up to the stereotype that all academics lived off caffeine and sugar. And tobacco - do you still smoke?"

Augustine shook his head. "I quit about five years ago." Glancing askance at Lysandre, he cautiously ventured, "I don't suppose you would have had cigarettes when you were..." He made a hand gesture that could have been anything but which Lysandre understood to refer to the prison.

"No. And I never picked them up again. And the brands in Unova are disgusting, anyway."

"So is the bread," Augustine said with feeling, then shook his head again, letting out a soft laugh. "Ah, we're being terribly rude, aren't we?"

Lysandre simply shrugged. "It's not as if they can understand us being rude, can they?" he pointed out, having lapsed back instinctively into Kalosian some time back. The smile faded, and he squeezed Augustine's hand tightly. "I think the memories of you managed to keep me sane in that place," he admitted, "As much as it was possible to do so in there. The good dreams, when I had them - they gave me something to hold on to. That perhaps I would see you again." A sigh escaped his lips, running his spare hand through his hair. "The bad ones... they were not so hopeful. And since that last day there, since Yveltal's awakening, it has mostly been those."

"I had a dream last night," Augustine admitted, and there was something dark in his eyes, a flicker of fear and remembered pain in his face. "After I spoke to Diancie. It was a memory - the memory of how all this started. Do you... remember?" he asked hesitantly.

Silently, Lysandre shook his head, and an achingly sad smile crossed Augustine's face.

"Maybe you will one day. I hope you don't. It's... unpleasant, remembering your own death."

Lysandre stopped short, tugging Augustine to a halt as well, and pulled him into a brief, silent embrace. Ahead, the children were still walking; here, they could linger for a moment, Lysandre's lips pressed to Augustine's forehead.

"It was because of me," he whispered, closing his eyes, "Wasn't it?"

Tilting his head up to press his lips against Lysandre's, Augustine pulled back, taking his hand again and continuing to walk. "It was," he said quietly. "You were hurting, and you lashed out at the world, and in the process, you caused both of our deaths. And I forgive you. Completely."

"And if I do it again?" Because the world was still a toxic place, the world still caused them pain and anguish. And he had the power to end things, he knew it - but he did not know if it would work, if, knowing that the cycle existed to stop him, if it was even worth proceeding with it.

Augustine let out a sigh heavy with resignation. "Then we'll deal with it in the next life, won't we?" he said softly. "We always have. Just - this time, maybe this is the time when we make it right. We have to get it right eventually."

They were nearing the top of the mountain by now, and Lysandre's footsteps faltered as he saw the state of it - ice that curled out of the ruined building with the moon rising behind it, the sounds of distant combat echoed and distorted. The children, up ahead, slowed to an uncertain halt, swapping desperate glances, and Serena reached unconsciously for Shauna's hand.

"Something has gone extremely wrong," Calem whispered, his expression pained. "There's - I can feel anger - hatred."

"Then we'd better hurry!" Serena said grimly, and they hurried into the building.

Augustine was clinging to his hand now, palpable anxiety on his face - he was biting down on his lip, his eyes were wide. Lysandre glanced at him, wordlessly questioning.

"I think I have to fight," he whispered as Calem pushed back a hidden panel, urging them into a tunnel. "But I don't - I don't know how. God, Lysandre, I'm supposed to defeat these Dragons, and I don't know how to."

"Trust Xerneas," Lysandre murmured, his voice low in the echoing tunnel, and Augustine shot him an alarmed look. "I know, I know, I really do, and I will be a hypocrite and try _not_ to surrender to Yveltal. But Xerneas knows how to fight."

With a sigh, he brushed a stray curl from Augustine's face, drawing him in for a quick and reassuring kiss. "And if all else fails, I will step in as much as possible."

It was not, he mused as they hurried towards the sounds of battle, a particularly reassuring thought.

The tunnel emptied out in a room dusty and creaking with disuse, an altar with six indentations set against a back wall. Perhaps, once, it had been used for solemn ceremony - now, it laid forgotten, sealed off from the world.

The 'sealed off' part was, in particular, a problem.

"Here!" Shauna whispered suddenly, pointing to a faint circle of light, surrounded by rings with a circular mark on each. "I think it opens up here - there's some sort of mechanism. It lines up..."

And, carefully, she dragged one of the marks into line.

There was a clunk.

She pulled at another, this time with Serena's help; spotting what was happening, the boys rushed to help as well. Four wheels, with four circular marks, lined up in a horizontal line - and with a shriek of rusted metal, the door began to open.

"Well," Serena said grimly, "I guess there's nothing left to do but to fight, huh?"

And she leaped out the door.

Outside was a battle zone. The floor and walls were slicked with ice, scorch marks licking up the walls and - Lysandre's heart quickened - splashes of blood against slick white ice, glittering in the moonlight like rubies. A handful of children and teenagers, versus a single man - a man that Lysandre could feel tangible power from, one that chilled him to the bone, making him start shivering violently.

"Professor!" called one of the children, a small girl with purple hair tied back in bunches, "He was lying, he's an Ice Dragon, he's Kyu-"

A wall of ice shot towards her, and she scrambled to avoid it, slipping on the ice and skidding into one of the boys.

"Kyurem," another boy said softly, this one sheltering from any of the attacks that could come near him and protected by a boy and a girl, his mint-green hair identical to the Dragon's. "He's Kyurem. One of the Legendary Dragons."

"I understand, N," Augustine said softly, and Lysandre twisted to gaze at him - his eyes had changed again, Xerneas awake and examining the battlefield. And too, he could feel the subtle power coming off him in waves, the force of his aura an almost physical sensation against his skin, tingling as it brushed up against with his own.

Kyurem stopped short, staring at the pair in malice, green hair contrasting oddly with his grey and icy skin. "The Fairies return," he said, his voice brittle. "Do you really think you can stop me? Only days ago, I knocked you into unconsciousness with a single gesture. And now I've become stronger yet!"

"This is the man who hurt you?" Lysandre asked Augustine calmly, and Augustine - or Xerneas, he was not entirely sure - nodded once. "I see."

And the roar of a gale burst forth from him, pinpointed straight for the Dragon.

Kyurem dodged it, but only barely, and his features twisted in a snarl.

The battlefield was a mess. Many of the children bore injuries, all seemed tired. The icy ground was a hazardous slick mess, with only Kyurem himself able to move over it easily - Lysandre knew that he would be vulnerable to it, would have to tread carefully, and indeed he had to leap out of the way more than once and thank the wind and his hollow bones for the ease of movement.

And yet those hollow bones would be to his detriment if he did manage to get hit. He knew this from bitter experience.

Augustine had not yet moved. As if rooted to the spot, his eyes with their curious cross-shaped pupils half-closed, light flickered around his feet, twisting and arcing. This he recognised too, and recognised that Xerneas was firmly in control. He had seen him absorb the energy of the Earth to strengthen himself more times than he could count.

And so he turned back and continued to fight, to give Augustine - Xerneas - the time that they needed, the time that it would take for Xerneas to gather enough strength to deliver the final blow.

Did the children know this too?

Perhaps they did, for it was now that the all-out assault began. The small dragon child sent out a blistering attack of her own, then shrieked and ducked behind Shauna as Kyurem returned the favour, Lysandre jerking in alarm before he could confirm that Shauna was still unhurt. A boy with wild hair flung violently violet ooze in the Dragon's face and he choked, a wild crackle of energy lancing towards him before being redirected by another boy, this one forcing the ground to rupture and tremble beneath him. Flame and water exploded into steam from the children who looked alike enough to be twins, Tierno sweeping an arm to redirect the water from them and prevent Augustine from being swamped as well; Trevor stamped a foot and lightning sliced through the air towards him. Calem did no fighting of his own but hurled up barriers to prevent others from being hurt; Shauna and Serena attacked together, protecting each other. A girl in pigtails growled and sent a sphere of solid blue aura energy towards him, and Lysandre himself aimed gales in his direction, relying solely on speed to prevent harm.

Kyurem twisted towards him and flung out an arm, and the needles of ice drove him to his knees, a scream erupting from his lips, blood welling from the injuries.

And something exploded outwards from Augustine, the violent pink of his aura, the colour of watered-down blood, burning wildly. White gold was being etched over his skin - curving beneath his eyes, branching up his arms, glowing like a heated wire pressed into his flesh, the marks beneath his eyes curling upwards into the aura-formed antlers and illuminating the rainbow of lights there. The power radiating out from him was ancient and vast, tapping some deep wellspring of energy from the Earth itself, the majesty and force of Life itself personified and concentrated in the being standing before him now.

And Lysandre could not breathe, could not stop himself from responding in kind any more than he could stop the Earth from turning, feeling black spread in lines like ink beneath his skin, feeling his aura twisting and extending into wings.

He stood with difficulty, fighting pain and blood loss, and Xerneas turned to look at him with infinite patience and compassion and love.

Yveltal, beneath his skin, almost wept. And something in Lysandre broke, a chain of his own making shattering into fragments.

"This ends now," Lysandre and Yveltal said as one.

A smile curled on Xerneas and Augustine's lips. "It will," he promised, and the moon lit up as bright as day as power so potent Lysandre could taste it sent Kyurem flying into the air.

He hit the ground so hard the ice beneath his body cracked, skidded down the stairs, and came to rest at the landing, a tangled wreck of limbs. And suddenly there was not one figure there, but three, a woman in black and a man in white shaking themselves off groggily from either side, glancing at each other in amazement.

The children exclaimed, the green-haired youth hurrying to the woman's side and the Dragon girl rushing to the man.

And Lysandre turned back to face Xerneas, his eyes widening in alarm as the pink aura faded from the air and he crumpled to the ground. He practically flew, catching him just in time to ease him gently to the ground, and the white marks, the cross-shaped pupils, faded back to clear skin and a pair of tired and completely human eyes.

"Hi," Augustine whispered with an exhausted smile, "Did we win?"

"We did," Lysandre said, and kissed him fiercely, feeling Augustine's arms wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

It really had been too long.

"Guys!" came a sudden amused call, Shauna poking her head up from the stairs, "You can make out later, you should probably be here for this!"

Augustine laughed even through his blushing, accepting Lysandre's help in getting to his feet. He seemed drained, despite the palpable relief radiating off him - the battle had taken a lot out of him, as short and as brutal as it had been. Carefully, Lysandre leaning on Augustine as much as Augustine leaned against him, they made their way over to the stairs, where the man was kneeling over Kyurem.

He glanced up as they approached, nodding in acknowledgement. "Xerneas, Yveltal," he said respectfully. "Zekrom and I welcome you both."

Augustine smiled tiredly. "Then you could start with our names," he pointed out. "I'm Augustine, this is Lysandre."

Zekrom chuckled as she straightened up from where she was checking the green-haired boy's injuries - he had blood running down the side of his face, and the possibility that this was Kyurem's son, and that in fact Kyurem had attacked his own child, crossed Lysandre's mind. "In that case, you can call me Cynthia, and Reshiram Drayden," she smiled. "Thank you, the both of you."

"What happens now?" Lysandre said suddenly, staring at the two with uncertainty. "Do we bring this fight to you as well? I spent five years in an Unovan prison being experimented on and tortured -" Augustine's hand tightened around his painfully - "In your name. The children have faced horrors that no child should. They have been branded Deviants, told that they do not belong in this society. Will you be answerable for this?"

Reshiram lowered his head, closing his eyes. "We were weak," he admitted. "We were incomplete. Instead of seeking the truth and the ideals that would guide the world, we allowed others to rule in our stead. Now, we have an opportunity - we will ensure that our brother is cared for, and we will change the world for the better. Will you stand with us?"

Lysandre hesitated, his eyes closing. Something in him was broken, he knew this. There was still such anger in him, the violence that he knew was not Yveltal's alone. He had lost his past to torture and imprisonment, and they were years that he would never get back. He knew that, in the world they lived in, there was still such injustice and pain, that there would be pain so long as life still existed, that a world without pain meant a world without life.

And he could feel Augustine's hand in his own, could feel two smaller presences at his side and glanced down to find Shauna and Serena, Shauna peering up at him hopefully, Serena's hand in her own as well.

"Lysandre?" Augustine said gently.

A new world was better than no world at all. He had to keep believing this, if this was what it would take.

He reached out with his spare hand, taking Zekrom's and shaking it once. "We will stand with you," he said clearly.

And the world kept spinning.


	20. Epilogue - Relaxed

**Epilogue - Relaxed**

_A handful of months later_

"Here, I got you a drink."

Cross-legged in the grass, eyes half closed, Augustine let a smile cross his lips as he glanced over to the source of the voice. He had felt Shauna come out of the house to approach Lysandre with a glass of iced water, he couldn't have not sensed it - not now, not with the way he was currently tuned in to... everything.

"How's he going with it?" Shauna asked, and Augustine returned his focus to the task at hand, Lysandre's voice and the conversation that followed fading into the background hum of the universe.

This was something he was slowly getting used to - tapping into his connection with Xerneas, feeling the world as a force that surrounded him and that he was a part of. Xerneas represented life (the Life Pokemon, a part of him remembered, even if wasn't completely sure what Pokemon were - the creatures that existed in the time Before, he assumed, the creatures whose tattered souls Xerneas had gathered and nurtured and sent flying to be reborn in humanity again), and while he still considered himself to be Augustine first and foremost... yes, he could accept the part of him that was Xerneas, too.

And with Xerneas came the connection to the world, an amazing and humbling experience, feeling the blades of grass beneath him, the trees above him, the birds in the sky and the insects in the ground. He could feel the life of all other beings as easily as he could smell the grass or see the sky above him, a new sense he happily could embrace even if the actual details of his identity were less certain.

Xerneas, he knew or could remember, could once raise forests from the ground.

Augustine was settling his sights on coaxing a flower into opening its petals.

The last few months had been long ones. With Kyurem's defeat and Reshiram and Zekrom stepping in to actually lead like they were supposed to, things were slowly changing, and he could see the marked difference that N and Iris were bringing. Reshiram, it seemed, sought the truth beyond all else, and enthusiastically honest Iris was precisely what he needed to curb his lifelong dishonesty. N, with his idealism and dreams, was precisely what Zekrom needed herself to live according to her principles, and he spent more time with his aunt in the halls of government than he did anywhere else safe the safe house, still seeking out Hilda and Hilbert for companionship and compassion (and, Augustine suspected, more than that aside).

Certainly he would not have been returned to his father's clutches, and the counselling services he had found specifically for survivors of emotional abuse seemed to be doing wonders - certainly, he still craved the comfort of routine, still was constantly in motion, but even those traits seemed more lighthearted and comfortable.

(He still, however, had not managed to coax N into eating more than a few bits of ratatouille.)

The first law that Reshiram and Zekrom had passed after returning to power had been the act to repeal the brand of 'Deviant', to openly acknowledge these new and ancient types - not just Dark, Psychic, and Ghost, but Fairy and Dragon as well. They offered overviews and education, training to help people reach their highest potential, and had signed it into law that deviance was no longer a death sentence, that the prisons and experiments would be shut down immediately.

It still wasn't perfect. He knew that the police force would be slow to change, that there was still brutality and excessive punishment for speaking out against the government. It would be a slow and painful progress, unlearning years of oppression and lack of freedom, and honestly, even Reshiram and Zekrom ruling properly and with the guidance and conscience of N and Iris being around wasn't the ideal situation.

But it was a start.

The safe house was no longer, strictly speaking, necessary. There was no need to flee just because of one's type, and in the days that had followed the title of Deviant being stripped away, people had slowly begun to go home, families reclaiming their old houses, children and teenagers being reunited with their parents.

Yet there was still a need for it, he knew that. It was a place that had become home for many who simply did _not_ have other options, a place where people could recover from mistreatment at the hands of the previous government. They had made contacts with therapists (and it was not just the children who made use of their services - Lysandre, especially, was still haunted by seven years of abuse and torture), with proper education, with employment services, and their focus had shifted ever so slightly towards helping people find a new future.

And for others, it was simply home. Shauna had resumed contact with her parents and happily spoke to them regularly, but upon hearing that Serena had been planning to stay, she had opted to remain with her. N, for whom home was not an option, had remained as well, and Hilda and Hilbert split their time between the safe house just outside of Nacrene and their family home in Nuvema, just a few hours to the southeast.

It was not at all a bad situation to be in, having a big shared home full of life.

Augustine opened his eyes, feeling a faint tug with the instincts that weren't quite his own yet, and smiled to see the vivid blue iris with its distinctive petals spread wide to soak in the sun.

Picking it did feel somewhat like a crime, but he at least treated the flower delicately as he carried it towards where Lysandre and Shauna were sitting, Lysandre looking up with interest as he noticed what Augustine was carrying. "You did it?" he said with a smile, then let out a surprised noise as Augustine tucked it behind Lysandre's ear.

It did clash magnificently with his hair, but the vividness of his blue eyes against it made up for that well enough.

"Diantha will be pleased!" Shauna said cheerfully, stretching her legs in the long grass. "You've been doing your homework, young man."

Augustine managed a grin back. "Careful. I'm still twenty years older than you _and_ your teacher," he pointed out lightly, "Have you been doing _your_ homework?"

She laughed sheepishly at that. "I'll - uh - get to it a bit later..."

Eventually she did leave to do just that, and Augustine let himself settle back against Lysandre's chest with a sigh, feeling Lysandre's arms slip around his waist. In the warmth of very early fall, it was almost a little uncomfortable - and at this point, nothing short of the apocalypse could have prompted him to move.

They had wasted so much time already, so many lives behind them. They had lost themselves so many times and had lost to each other so often. Augustine could remember a dozen lives or more, each one marked by searching, for never quite making it, for missed opportunities and for no second chances. Perhaps the future would see them reborn, perhaps it would not. Perhaps it was a bad thing, perhaps it was not.

But whatever would come next, they would face it when the time came. For now, let them have this, this moment in time where all else could stop.

A kiss as soft as a breath of air landed on the back of his neck; his eyes fluttered open as he twisted around, a smile crossing his lips at the sight of Lysandre perfectly and completely relaxed. "I love you," he murmured, smile quirking as Lysandre repeated it back as lazily as a big cat in the sun, and he tilted his head up to steal a lingering kiss.

The iris was still in Lysandre's hair by the time they made their way back to the house, Augustine jubilant after his success with the flower and Lysandre the picture of relaxation. They cooked and they ate dinner, surrounded by chosen family and good conversation, laughter and joy, they spent time in the company of friends and companions, they made plans for the next day and the day after, and they retired to bed together with the knowledge that, yes, there would be another day.

Outside, the moon was bright and high in the sky.

And inside, there was peace.

**The End**


	21. Appendix

**Appendix**  
_Some extra information on typings and characters_

**Characters**  
_In order of appearance_

As a general rule, most of these names have been lost to time. The only exception are the Legendaries that are individual beings - there is only, say, one Xerneas, but there are multiple Phiones, so a human with a Phione soul wouldn't use or know that name.

_Rosa:_ Lucario, Fighting/Steel. Can also sense auras. The blue energy ball attack is Aura Sphere.  
_Hugh:_ Quilfish, Water/Poison.  
_Nate:_ Sandslash, Ground.  
_Bianca:_ Deerling, Grass. Technically Normal/Grass, but as 'Normal' is used as shorthand for 'no actual abilities', she's considered to just be Grass.  
_Cheren:_ Liepard, Dark.  
_Professor Sycamore:_ Xerneas, Fairy. As a Legendary, he has an actual name. The moves he uses in chapter 19 are Geomancy and Moonblast, although those names are unknown.  
_Tierno:_ Crawdaunt, Water/Dark.  
_Hilda:_ Chandelure, Ghost/Fire. Chandelure is one of the Pokemon Hilda and Hilbert use in their Offensive team as the non-player character in Battle Subway.  
_Hilbert:_ Jellicent, Water/Ghost. Jellicent is one of the Pokemon Hilda and Hilbert use in their Defensive team as the non-player character in Battle Subway.  
_Serena:_ Absol, Dark. Has ability to sense disasters.  
_Calem:_ Meowstic, Psychic. As a male Meowstic, his abilities lie more along the lines of barriers and support.  
_Trevor:_ Raichu, Electric.  
_Professor Juniper:_ Normal, no actual Pokemon but I was thinking vaguely Minccino.  
_N:_ Normal, no actual Pokemon. Briefly, I did toy with him being Dark (Zoroark), but decided against it - in BW, he's a human who acts as an advocate for Pokemon; in Deviance, he's a Normal who helps support those who do have typings.  
_Iris:_ Deino, Dark/Dragon. She uses a Hydreigon in her Champion team, but since she's still pretty young, she's a Deino here.  
_Shauna:_ Sylveon, Fairy. Like Sylveon, Shauna is good at soothing people, including Lysandre.  
_Ghetsis:_ Kyurem, Dragon/Ice. However, he passes himself off as Dark/Dragon (Hydreigon) to conceal the actual reason he was locked away. His known moves include Dragon Pulse (the one he tried to kill Iris with), Steel Wing (the one he almost did kill Sycamore with), and Glaciate.  
_Lysandre:_ Yveltal, Dark/Flying. His Oblivion Wing is the only move mentioned by name. In this particular universe, Oblivion Wing is immensely powerful - it's the equivalent of the Ultimate Weapon in XY. The Flying move he uses in chapter 19 is not Oblivion Wing, but rather Air Slash.  
_Diantha:_ Diancie, Rock/Fairy. She considers herself to simultaneously be Diantha and Diancie, and uses both names interchangably. In some past lives, she and Sycamore were actually siblings.  
_Cynthia:_ Zekrom, Dragon/Electric. However, she has known about Zekrom her entire life and uses that name far more than 'Cynthia'.  
_Drayden:_ Reshiram, Dragon/Fire. Like Zekrom, he far prefers using his Legendary name rather than his human name.

**Type characteristics**

As well as being able to use their particular element (for instance, Fire types can start fires spontaneously, as well as directing flames), the various types have different physical characteristics. These are mostly based on immunities and weaknesses. As a general rule, being physically weak indicates a weakness to Fighting, and getting sick easily indicates a weakness to Poison. Traits like being fairly sturdy indicate usually high defence. These are largely generalisations - it is possible to have a less-than-sturdy Steel type (like Lucario) or a petite Rock type (like Diancie).

_Fire:_ Higher body temperature, withstand high temperatures, pathological dislike and weakness to getting wet.  
_Ice:_ Lower body temperature, withstand low temperatures but overheats easily, prone to heat stroke.  
_Grass:_ Get sick easily, weakness with reduced exposure to sun, stronger in sunny conditions.  
_Water:_ Strengthened in and around water and during rain, get dehydrated easily, very vulnerable to electricity.  
_Flying:_ Hollow bones - generally light enough to fly or at least get air, but get fractures easily, tendency towards being pretty fast.  
_Rock/Ground:_ Nearly identical in that they're both generally physically big and sturdy, Ground types are also resistant to electric shock and can redirect it.  
_Electric:_ Resistant to electric shocks, prone to seizure disorders and nerve damage.  
_Steel:_ Immune to poisons and drugs but also medicines, can be fairly sturdy.  
_Bug:_ Physically fragile, thrives in unclean environments, paradoxically feels unwell in sterile environments.  
_Poison:_ Resistance to poisons/medicines/drugs, tendency towards chronic illness, vulnerable to psychic manipulation.  
_Fighting:_ Stronger, more durable, and faster, vulnerable to psychic manipulation.  
_Dragon:_ Even stronger, more durable, and faster than Fighting, vulnerability to cold, fairy abilities.  
_Dark:_ Immune to psychic manipulation, physically weak.  
_Ghost:_ Purely ability-based with no physical signposts, are easily 'de-calibrated' by dark-types and other ghosts.  
_Psychic:_ Purely ability-based with no physical signposts, are easily 'de-calibrated' by ghosts and dark-types.  
_Fairy:_ Immune to dragon abilities, essentially allergic to metal, can get sick easily.


End file.
